


step out of your comfort zone

by WhereverMyWay



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Cheating, Choking, Degradation, Fist Fights, Gang AU, I wrote this while listening to Joji, M/M, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Profanity, Recreational Drug Use, Slapping, Smoking, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, elements of d/s for like a single chapter maybe two, everyone is a switch, top? bottom? never heard of her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMyWay/pseuds/WhereverMyWay
Summary: Han Jisung's life is thrown for a loop when he meets Bang Chan at a house party. He finds Chan to be cool and calm, easy to talk to. They both write and produce music, they have the same taste as each other in a lot of things, and Jisung thinks that Chan is totally normal.Chan, however, is not normal. Not in the slightest. He's a drug dealer and second-in-command for a modestly-sized gang in Seoul.Jisung quickly finds out that the relationships of the members in the gang are complicated: Chan used to have a thing with his best friend and superior, Seo Changbin, but was too scared to admit it and actually commit. Jisung dated Changbin's current partner, Lee Minho. Changbin may or may not be completely over Chan. Minho has opinions about Jisung he wants him to know.The inner workings of the group is messy and complicated enough, but things get even worse when someone from a rival gang at the house party catches Jisung and Chan flirting and talking with each other, and someone betrays the entire group.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Bang Chan/Seo Changbin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Minho | Lee Know/Seo Changbin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	1. prologue I: take my breath away

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by Anonymous. Log in to view. 



> recommended tracks: playlist is [here.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLy7IldVlbSYv1yh8xG8Y9BZeG7PzRgjs3)
> 
> disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.
> 
> -
> 
> welcome! this is the beginning of step out. this version is a rewrite of the step out! do what you want series, which had a female reader-insert originally and i hated it, so i decided to remake it. this is the true story and what the concept originally deserved. i fell out of love with the original series and hated it by the time it was done because i didn't realize how much i hated reader insert fics and how it caused me a lot of dysphoria. now we're here. anyway, if you read the original series, there are going to be major changes to the plot about halfway through and it won't end the same way the original did, so i highly suggest reading though this version. <3
> 
>  **friendly notice:** there is consensual choking in this chapter and a face slap, both in sexual settings.

“Seriously, Changbin,” the black-haired man leaning against the rented car spits out, holding a lit cigarette in his teeth. “We just landed. Give it a break, they’ll text us with the details eventually.” He takes in a deep drag and exhales with calculus, pushing the smoke from his mouth up so he’s able to inhale it again through his nose. “Thank god we landed in one piece. I hate planes. Wish he’d stop sending us here.”

Changbin angrily fumbles with his phone before shoving it in his back pocket. He takes his briefcase off the ground and puts it on top of the hood of the rental car, unlocking it and haphazardly throwing some paperwork in it. “Can’t fucking read Japanese, I swear,” he grumbles under his breath. “They’ve always got some bone to pick with us just because we’re Korean. Absolute bullshit.” He slams the briefcase shut and angrily glares up at the man leaning against the car.

“Chan, I wish you’d stop fucking smoking,” the brunette sighs, hastily grabbing the cigarette from Chan’s lips. He drops it down to the pavement and crushes the cherry under his heel and grits his teeth. “I know you’re stressed lately, but I’m not burying you a day before you’re ready because of this shit.”

Chan scoffs at Changbin before rolling his eyes. “Sorry,” he sarcastically huffs, “it’s not like I have any way of getting this shit out. We keep piling on these jobs and we’re not gonna have time to even sleep, dude.” Changbin clearly finds this remark offensive. He spins on his heel and pushes Chan backwards. 

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it,” he says, poking his finger in the taller man’s chest. “It’s money for us, survival, it’s security. We just have to put up with this for a little longer, then you never have to work with me on this again.” He stares the older man down for a minute longer than he should have. The way that Chan looked down at him had a habit of making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He would always flush, then start to feel weirdly tingly all over.

“And?” The older man kind of spits out, staring down at his superior. “You look like you wanna say something.”

Changbin shakes his head, taking a couple steps back, then walking over to the passenger side of the car, yanking the briefcase off the roof of the car and bringing it with him. He ruffles his fingers through his hair a couple times, trying to shake that floating feeling out of his stomach. ”Nah, man,” he starts fumbling in his front pocket for the keys to the car. “It’s nothing. Here,” he tosses the keys to Chan, “you were always better driving in Japan.” 

* * *

“That went better than expected,” Changbin says with a smile as the guys arrive back at their hotel room. “I can’t believe we got out of that, man.” He seems elated, obviously happy that they were able to seal their deal. “Hard to believe that hyungnim actually trusted us with this, but we did it!”

The way that Changbin turned around, beaming with excitement, made Chan breathless for a moment. Sure, he was proud of his blood brother, impressed that his silver tongue managed to seal another negotiation with some intimidating clients. There was, however, something else burning in his stomach; the flavour of this emotion was different as Chan processed it. Not quite excitement, not quite desire, not quite a crush, but there was something eerily similar, yet different, the way it felt to him.

“Right,” Chan shook his head, trying to rid himself of that strange new feeling, and he reached his arms out wide. “You did it, Bin.”

A look of panic very subtly and briefly passes over Changbin’s face as he stepped forward to hug Chan. “It wasn’t all me,” he squeaks out, making sure not to stay in Chan’s chest longer than he should’ve, but long enough to take in some of his scent - hints of the woodsy cologne he wore, with the soft, musky smell of his deodorant mixing with a bit of his sweat, probably from the nervousness surrounding the deal and the warm weather. It shouldn’t have smelled so good, but it was what his best friend smelled like, and it made him feel at home.

“You really helped out, like always.” He steps back, then quickly shuffles his way over to the small fridge in the room. He grabs a couple of cans of some chu-hai, passing one over to Chan. 

“Oh, shit,” Chan says with a laugh, “you _actually_ grabbed the Strong Zero. I can’t believe you. This is, like, nine percent. dude.”

“Is it?” Changbin looks at the label, spinning the can around in his fingertips. “Oh,” he gasps, poring over the text on the can a couple of times. “Sorry, guess my Japanese is a lot worse than I remember. The last time we were here, though,” he says, standing up and unceremoniously flopping down on the unmade futon opposite of Chan, “you specifically told me you liked Strong Zero and that I should remember that. So, I saw the English on the label and that’s what I grabbed.”

Chan opens the can and flushes, the hazy memories of the last time they were in Tokyo starting to cloud his vision. He liked the specific chu-hai because it was easy to drink and a relatively high percentage. This meant it helped him loosen his guard around Changbin in record speed. It gave the younger man this glow that made him seem a lot more approachable. It also happened to give him the courage to subtly flirt here and there. He didn’t actually mean it, of course, he was just practicing for when he would eventually find someone crazy enough to take a chance on him. 

It was never serious. 

… _right?_

The guys sat back and chatted for a while, thoroughly enjoying the giddiness that a couple of cans of their citrusy alcoholic soda brought them. They had a few moments where they ended up laughing so hard, they ended up in stitches and curled up next to the table. To finally de-stress after weeks of stress prepping for this deal felt wholly and truly well-deserved.

“You know,” Changbin cracks open another can of chu-hai, taking a long swig from the can, “that new guy, Lee Minho? He’s coming with us to Shanghai in a couple months.” Changbin’s face starts to turn a light shade of red as he smiles to himself. “I worked with him on a couple of collections, but didn’t talk too much.” Chan shakes his head again, bringing himself to completely focus on Changbin. “Boss said he’s a good shot and smart. Interesting dossier. When we did chat, he really made me laugh. You’d probably get along with him, he’s got a wit like yours.”

“Sounds like your type,” the words fall from Chan’s lips as he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn’t really think about the way he said that, with an air of indignation and jealousy, but it’s clearly too late to retract the words he says by the time he realizes this. 

Changbin squints one of his eyes, pulling his face into a scowl. “What is your deal, dude? Am I, like, not allowed to have one thing?”

Chan rolls his neck in a circle, snapping his joints a couple times. “Not what I meant, man,” he grumbles, chugging some of the alcohol from the can, “I’m just saying that you have a type.”

“Sounded like you were still mad about that one time we—“ Changbin is cut off by Chan sighing heavily and slamming his can down on to the table. Some of the liquid splashes up into the air, colliding hard against the table. He reaches into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, fumbling around a bit as he tipsily stumbles over to the balcony. “Where are you going?” Changbin grumbles, turning to follow Chan with his head.

“Working on getting one step closer to you burying me,” Chan grumbles under his breath, pulling a cigarette out of the small, papery package with his lips. He slides the door open, sliding the black lighter between his fingers as he lifts his hands to his face. Changbin, however, does not find Chan’s joke funny.

As Chan flicks the lighter under his thumb, ready to step out onto the balcony, Changbin’s fist connects to his cheek with a loud smack. The nearly-lit cigarette goes flying out of his mouth as Chan instinctively reaches up to his face and reorients himself. Changbin grips him by the shoulders, shoving him into the wall. “I’m not burying you,” he says, clearly angry with Chan’s quip. “I know you think it’s fine, but it’s not. You’re the _only_ person I have left from before all of this shit. I know we’re brothers by the code and all, but,” he looks down to the floor, dropping his forehead on to Chan’s collarbone. “I can’t lose you, man. You’re my fucking person.”

This was absolutely _not_ helping that feeling in Chan’s chest disappear. It was doing a good job at making it worse, actually. Chan bites his bottom lip under his teeth, making a pointed effort to look up at the ceiling. “I wasn’t actually trying to,” Chan sighs heavily, “I don’t actually wanna die before you, you know. I’m gonna be a thorn in your side, and you’re gonna be a thorn in my side, until we get old.”

Changbin scoffs, rolling his head a bit, turning towards the black-haired man’s neck. He had been doing so well, trying so hard to not get close to Chan. There was something, though, some mysterious pull that this man had on him; the closer he got, the harder it was to get away. It was probably the alcohol talking, making his mind up for him, when he turns to look up at Chan.

“I know it’s been hard, but what if,” Changbin says, a clear look of nervousness lingering in his eyes as he slowly reaches up to touch Chan’s face, dropping his other hand down to grip the taller man’s hip, “what if I help you de-stress, just this once?”

Chan is taken aback, jaw dropping as he stares at Changbin. An electric jolt runs through him, from his forehead down to his toes. “I thought you said I wasn’t your type,” he breathes out, trying to hide the panic going on under his skin.

“You’re not,” Changbin says, tentatively looking Chan up and down, waiting for some sort of affirmation or rejection. “You’re not my type, but I never said I wouldn’t…” his voice trails off as he embarrassingly looks down to his feet. He _knew_ this was a stupid idea, that he shouldn’t be trying to come on to his best friend, especially not after having a couple cans of some stupid alcoholic soda.

But yet, something happened. There was a definite alcohol-induced confidence and lack of inhibition that was aroused in both men as they stared each other down. They both felt some sort of tension snap as they awkwardly tried to meet each other’s faces - a nose bump here, some teeth grinding there. The next thing he knew, Changbin had swapped places with Chan and was upright against the wall, Chan awkwardly trying to pull his shirt over his head. 

“Not your type,” he groans as he pulls Changbin’s shirt off, then sinking his teeth into the younger man’s neck. “Not your type, not my type, but you do this.” The bite causes Changbin to roll his eyes back and squeal. “You do this every time we’re alone, when we get drunk. Just like in high school. Try and come on to me.” Chan fumbles his hands down to the waistband of Changbin’s pants, his fingers awkwardly trying to unbutton the jeans as he avoided looking down, too busy training his lips on how to best fit against Changbin’s. “Try to get me to come on to you.”

“I see the way you look at me,” he trails his teeth from Changbin’s lips up a lazy line to his earlobe, “the look in your eyes as I dance around you during our work engagements,” he bites Changbin’s earlobe, causing the man to tense beneath him. “I know you want to fuck me,” he whispers in between nibbles, “I can see it every time you look at me. You’ve looked at me like this since you met me. I know you almost came on to me the last time we were here.”

Changbin hastily brings his hands up to Chan’s hair, pulling it between his fingertips. The way that Chan was biting him was causing electricity to course through his veins - a layer of excitement, another one of panic, and another of relief. It was true, regardless of how much either of them tried to ignore it: Changbin had coveted his best friend for too long, and it was painfully obvious to everyone but them.

“Chan,” Changbin chokes out, wincing as Chan rolls his earlobe between his teeth, “you can’t keep,” he moans, distracted from the sentence he wanted to finish, as Chan finally undoes his jeans, slipping the flat of his palm up against his painfully obvious erection. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Chan groans, biting down into Changbin’s collarbone. “Like,” he sighs, “I don’t mind, but like, I need a minute to adjust to it.”

“Fuck you,” Changbin grumbles and grips his own hair tightly, a slight whine escaping his lips as he feels Chan’s hand grip him tighter. “Or, god, fuck me, I don’t care right now.”

Chan shrinks back into himself for a second, pulling away from Changbin and just staring at him with disbelief. All of the alcohol-induced confidence suddenly dissipated from his consciousness. “Wait a second,” he says with a panic, pulling his hands into his hair, “wait, wait, wait, I’ve never done anything like this with another guy.”

Changbin rolls his eyes so hard, that his head falls backwards into the wall with a thud. “I swear to god,” he grumbles under his breath as he sighs with exasperation and frustration. “It’s not that fucking hard. Is it so hard to take control for once?” In his frustration, he grabs Chan by the collar of his shirt, fumbling with his footing a bit, his half-done pants getting in the way, as he throws the black-haired man back up against the wall. “Whatever. Just shut up and let me do this, then. No wonder you were never picked as leader.” 

There’s a momentary look of terror on Chan’s face as he watches Changbin take control of him. He sheepishly nods his head and lets his hands fall to his sides. “You sure about this?” Changbin says, taking Chan’s chin in with his fingers. “Wanna know it’s not just the alcohol telling you to make bad decisions.”

Chan nervously nods his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, noticing that Changbin isn’t necessarily pleased with that response. “Yes, I’m sure, Bin, just new to this. Nervous. Don’t wanna fuck up our relationship. We can’t fuck this up.” His chest rises and falls rapidly with excitement and nervousness, and Chan reaches his hands up to Changbin’s face.

A smirk creeps up on Changbin’s face as he grabs Chan’s hands, tossing them away. “No,” he says, taking his hands and lining his thumbs up on Chan’s clavicle. “If I’m going to finally have my chance with you, I want you to know I’m not going to hold back. If you need me to stop, you gotta tell me, though, because I plan to fucking wreck you.” 

Chan’s eyes blink rapidly in fear and excitement. This was a side of Changbin he had yet to see - he always knew that his superior had some demanding moments, but nothing like this. He tried to avoid thinking about it too much, because the thoughts would always take over him completely as he laid in bed alone or took a little too long in the shower. It wasn’t like he was _really_ that into Changbin, he just happened to spend so much of his time with him. Chan would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious to know what Changbin was like in bed. 

A set of teeth sinking into his neck rips Chan from his thoughts. “What the fuck,” he breathes out as Changbin digs his teeth - quite painfully, in fact - into the skin just under his earlobe. “When did you turn into such a goddamn sadist, Bin?”

Changbin pulls his lips off of Chan’s neck with a cocky smirk, pulling back to glare at him. “Always been like this. Do _you_ ever shut up?”

“Hey,” Chan verbally bites back, rolling his eyes, “don’t use my words against me.”

“You trust me?” Changbin says, ignoring Chan’s response. He slowly moves his fingers up to the sides of Chan’s neck, staring at it as if he could eat it. 

The black-haired man nods. “With my life. Why?”

Changbin looks down to where his fingers are placed up against Chan’s neck, then looks back up to meet his eyes. “Because, and I don’t want you to freak out, but I really wanna make you feel good. I want to choke you.”

“What the _fuck_?” Chan panics, shaking his head. 

Changbin sighs and drops his head down. “Yeah, that’s exactly how I thought that was gonna go. Look,” he brings his right hand up to Chan’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb, “someone I was with before did this to me and, trust me, I know it sounds crazy and kind of stupid, but you might like it.”

The two guys just kind of stare at each other for a minute, and a sinking feeling of regret takes over Changbin. His palm starts to sweat up against Chan’s face, everything starting to feel prickly and weird and hot, like he was about to be sick. “Do it,” he hears Chan breathe out, grabbing Changbin’s hand and pulling it back down to his neck. “I don’t know if I’m gonna like it, but I trust you. Just don’t fucking kill me.”

“Seriously?” Changbin manages to spit out nervously. Chan nods his head, and Changbin instinctively goes up to kiss Chan. He haphazardly brushes his lips up against the older man’s, then pulls away after a couple of messy kisses. “Alright. Tell me to stop if you need me to, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, just fucking do it,” Chan sighs, starting to get annoyed with this. The pressure against his waistband was starting to cause him to go mad.

It starts off gentle at first, almost like nothing really happens. Chan kind of frowns at Changbin, not really sure if he knew what his superior was doing. Then, Changbin adjusts the angling of his thumbs up against the sides of Chan’s neck, and it’s like a light switch. There’s a strange pressure, but he can still breathe, and there’s a head rush that takes over him. His head starts to tip backwards and all of his nerves from head to toe start to light up.

“Oh, god,” the words just come up from Chan with a moan, no actual intent behind them. Changbin panics, removing his thumbs and pulling Chan into his arms.

“Shit,” the shorter man cries out, “I’m so sorry, I fucked it up, I’m so sorry.” He brings up one of his hands up to Chan’s hair, the other hand falling between his shoulder blades. “I am so sorry.”

“Bin,” Chan whispers, grabbing Changbin’s shoulders and peeling him off. “It’s fine,” he smiles, bringing his hand up to the younger man’s face. “I promise. I just, uh, kinda felt euphoric for a second there.”

“So it worked?” Changbin blinks, shaking his head twice in disbelief. Chan nods, offering him a smile. “Holy shit, it worked.”

“Yeah. Worked really well,” Chan awkwardly laughs, trying to avoid eye contact from Changbin. “Anyway, what now? You said you were gonna wreck me, but you look like you’re gonna cry.”

Changbin offers a playful smack to Chan’s shoulder. “Shut up,” he grumbles, “I thought I was gonna kill you, dude. Give me a second.”

The guys take a minute to reorient themselves, stepping away from the wall, finishing their drinks and setting up their individual futons. In theory, the traditional Japanese room sounded nice, but it was an absolute disaster to set up when tipsy. At some point, Changbin just throws his hands up in the air in frustration and unceremoniously collapses next to Chan after he sets his bed up.

“I’m not setting up my bed like this,” he mumbles into the pillow, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the man next to him. “Too tipsy, too distracted. Are we gonna finish what we started?” Changbin wasn’t _that_ inebriated, but he was feeling it enough to feel confident enough to hit on Chan.

Chan lets his eyes dart around back and forth a couple of times before he gets up. Changbin grumbles something at him, but Chan was too busy focusing on finding his bag to pay close enough attention to exactly what he said. He dug around a bit before throwing a small plastic bottle at Changbin, hitting him right in the shoulder, then turning the light off and making his way back to the futon.

“What the fuck, dude?” Changbin grabs the bottle as he feigns despair. “Why did you? Oh.” He rolls the bottle around in his hand, the slick exterior almost causing him to drop it. He’s barely able to make out the text in the darkness, but he recognizes the bottle - he just knows. He’s got a bottle similar to this back in his apartment. “So, you want to…?”

Chan lies down next to Changbin, staring at his lightly illuminated outline in the dark. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Binnie. All I know is that I trust you and I want you to finish what you started.”

“Alright,” Changbin whispers, grabbing Chan’s face and pulling it into his. He crashes their lips together, pushing his body against Chan’s, forcing him to roll over on to his back. “You’re really sure about this?”

“Yes!” Chan nearly shouts, grinding his hips up against Changbin’s. “Fuck,” he lets out a pained whine, covering his face into the crook his elbow and sighs in frustration. “It’s been so long. You’ve been working me so hard, and I just haven’t had time.”

“Hmm, needy. When was the last time?” Changbin bends down, pulling Chan’s arm away from his face. 

Chan looks up to his superior in the darkness, sure that the blush on his face is radiant enough to illuminate the dark room. “I don’t know,” he mumbles with embarrassment, “maybe a week or two ago?”

“What’d you do?” Changbin is unfazed, bending down to nibble on Chan’s ear. “Tell me about it. What’d you think about?”

“Ah,” Chan shifts uncomfortably, shutting his eyes tightly as he turns his head up towards the ceiling, “I dunno, it was a while ago.” The lack of an actual, meaningful response earns him a sharp bite from his superior. “Fuck, fuck,” Chan pants out, “fine, I was in the shower.”

"Keep going.” Changbin’s hands are starting to roam further and further south. He pulls up Chan’s shirt from the sides, pulling it up to his shoulders, helping the man sit up so he’s able to pull over his head as gently as possible.

“Well,” Chan lets Changbin remove his shirt, and lies back down on the futon, now very painfully trying to avoid eye contact with Changbin as he started to work on removing his pants. “I was just, I don’t know, frustrated with a lot of stuff. So I just, you know, worked it out in the shower.”

“But you had to think of something,” the brunette quips, pulling Chan’s pants off of him one leg at a time.

“W-well, yeah,” Chan tries to hide his face in his arms, clearly avoiding even thinking about discussing this.

“Colour?”

“What?”

“You know,” Changbin sighs, bringing himself up to Chan’s face, offering him a quick kiss before he removes his own pants, tossing them across the room. “Red means stop, yellow means hold up, green is fine. Colour system. You ever have any sex that isn’t vanilla? Shit.”

It’s obvious that Chan is glaring at Changbin, even in the darkness. “Yeah, no, I know what you mean,” he says with frustration, “I just don’t get why you’re asking me now? Nothing is happening.”

“You dense—“ a slap reverberates throughout the room as Changbin smacks his forehead and sighs. “Look,” he presses his hips down against Chan’s, getting a quick gasp out of the man below him, “I wanna know what you do to yourself. How you get yourself off, alright? It’ll give me ideas. Some people don’t wanna talk about it. Hence, colour system.”

“Oh,” Chan breathes out, finally starting to put the pieces together. “I mean, there’s nothing exciting about it. Usually think about some attractive person I see that day down there instead of my hand.”

“You’re lying,” Changbin quips, interrupting Chan’s train of thought. “Wanna know how I know? Everyone’s got a thing. A memory or some sort of sick fantasy going on in the back of their heads.” He grinds up against Chan’s erection, dropping his head down to his ear, “Sometimes, I think about taking you somewhere in public. Mark you as mine during the middle of a job. Fuck you so hard I make you cry on the table in front of a client.”

For a moment, Chan forgets exactly how to breathe. His cock twitches in response to Changbin’s words, and he swallows hard. “I think,” he gasps out before he coughs once, “I think about you, having you suck me off when I’m trying to finish a song or a project. It’d be a welcome distraction.”

Changbin laughs, lightly patting Chan’s face a couple of times. “You’re innocent, and it’s cute. So,” he adjusts and tilts Chan’s chin up towards him. “We can do this a few different ways. I don’t mind putting in all the effort - that’s usually what I do, anyway, but, I digress. You’ve never been with another dude, right?”

Chan just shakes his head from side to side, feeling the blush on his face spreading wider and wider. He knew where this was going and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“Never had a girl wanna try anything non-traditional? Got curious and experimented on yourself?”

Again, Chan shakes his head.

“Alright. I’m gonna keep telling you, but if something makes you uncomfortable, I need you to tell me. Got it?” Changbin leans his body off of Chan, reaching over to the table and grabbing a small foil packet.

“What’re you doing?” Chan props himself up on his elbows, staring up at his superior with wide eyes.

“Nothing right now,” Changbin says, tossing the foil packet right up on the pillow. “But while I did say I was gonna wreck you, I think I’ll keep it pretty tame for now. Don’t worry,” he says, bringing his left hand up to the side of Chan’s neck, “I’ll make sure you’ll still be begging for me tomorrow, yeah?”

Chan bites his lip and the two men stare at each other in the darkness for a few moments. Just when he’s afraid that Changbin is going to back out, he’s suddenly pushed onto his back, Changbin’s hands in his hair as their lips are orienting themselves around each other. Their tongues fight for dominance back and forth in some sort of existential tug of war. 

“I’ve been wanting this,” Changbin whispers in between kisses, “since the day I met you. I would have given, ah, anything to be here. Right now. Just like this.” The two of them keep kissing each other, occasionally nibbling on each others’ lips and dragging their fingernails into their skin. “Anything to be here with you like this.”

Chan subconsciously lets out a whimper, “Bin,” he whines, pressing his hips into the man above him. “Do it.”

“What?” Changbin pulls away, looking down at Chan.

The black-haired man pulls one of Changbin’s hands to his neck. “Do it again. I want you to choke me again.”

“Alright,” he says, readjusting himself to properly angle his upper body. “Slap my arms if it’s too much, okay?” Chan nods his head, one of his hands on Changbin’s hip and the other on his wrist. There’s an air of vulnerability as they stare at each other, Changbin slowly pressing the tips of his thumbs into the sides of Chan’s neck.

It takes a couple of adjustments until the positioning is just right. Once it gets there, Chan twitches in response, mostly out of shock, and it causes Changbin to pause for a second, lightly loosening his grip. Chan nods his head as best as he can, giving Changbin the go-ahead to continue.

So, that’s what he does. He presses his thumbs in a little further, biting his lip as he stares down at the vulnerable man below him. “Ah, fuck,” Chan gasps, rolling his head backwards as he arches his back upright, grinding up against the man above him. “Bin,” he whines, trying to get the words to come out as coherently as possible, “I’m gonna, if you keep that up, I’m gonna-“

Changbin lifts his hands off of Chan’s throat, staring down at him as the blissful look on his face disappears, turning into one of confusion.

“W-what the fuck, man?” The black-haired man groans, digging his fingernails into Changbin’s skin. “I was gonna—“

“I know.” It’s simple, how coolly the words come from Changbin. He half-smirks, looking down at the man below him, enjoying him contort and shift in discomfort. “And I told you I was going to wreck you tonight, didn’t I?”

Chan growls, his eyes opening wide as he looks up at Changbin with anger. “I swear to god, I’m gonna strangle—“

Changbin rolls back against Chan’s cock, folding his arms and baring his teeth as he smiles. “What’re you gonna do? I have all the power here.” The movement causes Chan to flip his head back against the pillow behind him. His face furrows in confusion and slight pain, and he lets out a high-pitched moan as Changbin shifts against him.

“This isn’t fair,” he whines, nearly crying. “Binnie, this isn’t fair at all.”

“Colour?”

“I hate you.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Fuck off, you asshole.”

“You can fuck yourself, then.”

“Green, it’s green,” Chan relents with a whimper, reaching up to Changbin’s face. “Please, I’ll do anything, baby.”

Changbin stops cold in his tracks, his face contorting in confusion. “Did you just call me baby?”

“Yeah, I guess,” the older man whines, letting his fingers get lost in Changbin’s hair. “I guess we say dumb shit when we wanna get off, yeah? Look, just ignore it for now. Can we get back to the problem at hand?”

The younger man smiles softly, reaching a hand up to meet the hand on his face. He cranes down, kissing his forehead for a moment. “You said you trust me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chan sighs, clearly ready to just move on already. “Why?”

About twenty minutes later, Chan finally found out why Changbin was so nervous. Stretching someone out in preparation to be fucked was an absolute _process_. With three fingers inside of him, Chan was having a very difficult time staying quiet, constantly whimpering and whining and moaning. There was so much pressure and so much tension that he had never experienced before, that it was all incredibly overwhelming.

Changbin continues to whisper inane feel-good phrases in Chan’s ear, telling him that he’s doing so well and that he’s almost there. “You’re gonna take me so well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see the way you look with me inside you.” 

“Bin,” Chan manages to pant out, “I need you.” He pleads with a whine, “I’m ready, I’ve, ah, gotta be, please.” 

“Alright,” Changbin says, giving Chan a quick kiss on his cheek. He sits up, slowly slipping his fingers out, one by one, watching Chan’s face contort in confusion and bliss with each small movement. When his fingers are completely out, he grabs the towel he strategically left on the table next to them, wiping his hands off.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he tears the foil of the condom, as if it were just some sort of normal, casual situation. The circumstances almost felt clinical: insert fingers, wait, clean hands, check in, then continue. This was completely different than what Chan was used to and it was all around awkward. He was thankful that the veil of darkness hid most of themselves from each other.

Chan looks up at Changbin, enjoying the way the moonlight highlighted his face, pausing to appreciate his accentuated features before he turns his head to the opposite side in embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he nervously squeaks out. “I’m just anxious about this. You sure it’s not gonna hurt?”

Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes. “Chan, it’s going to be fine.” He slips the condom on and turns his head to face Chan. “I’ll go slow, and if it hurts too much, I’ll stop. But it’s gonna be uncomfortable and weird, that I can guarantee. You still wanna do this?”

Chan nods his head, still not looking at Changbin, which bothers the younger man. “Look at me,” Changbin sternly demands, grabbing Chan’s chin and forcefully turning it in his direction. “I’m not doing this if you don’t grow up a little bit. Stop being a bitch and fucking take it.”

The two men exchange a shocked glance at each other, both surprised that Changbin would say such a thing. “Fuck,” Changbin starts, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Green.” Chan spits out, not even thinking about it as he says it. “Talk to me like that again. I, uh, liked it.”

“Seriously?” Changbin presses, and Chan simply nods. “What the fuck, dude?”

“You’re the one that said it!” Chan wails in frustration. “Can we not do this right now? You’re killing the vibe.”

“Fine, fine, you wanna play that way, then we can,” Changbin mutters something under his breath as he positions himself behind Chan. “Once I get started, I’m not gonna stop unless you tell me yellow or red, alright?”

Chan swallows, biting his lip as he nods his head.

“No, I need you to use your words for this, Chan.” Changbin’s voice is calm, yet firm. “It’ll make me feel a lot better.”

“Fine,” Chan whines, “I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me, I want you to talk down to me. Please.”

Instead of reacting in a bold manner, Changbin simply closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale as he traces his fingertips up and down Chan’s inner thigh for a moment. Chan is about to say something, but something changes in Changbin, like a switch is flipped.

“You think you deserve my cock, you pathetic slut?” He spits out and reaches up to Chan’s throat with his free hand. “I want you to beg for it.” 

Chan’s eyes widen as he stares up at Changbin, completely dumbfounded. “W-what?” Is all he’s able to muster out before Changbin lightly smacks his inner thigh. 

“Be a good slut and beg for it, or you don’t get it.”

“You can’t do that to me,” Chan angrily mumbles under his breath, looking away from Changbin. There was an inexplainable rush coursing through his veins with every time he fought back against his superior, but he loved the feeling of knowing he got under Changbin’s skin. He knew that it would get on his nerves, but he wasn’t expecting an aggressive slap to the face, taking him down from his cocky high.

Changbin exhales with force, blinking a few times. “Colour?”

It takes Chan a full minute to reorient himself to his surroundings, shocked that he actually got slapped in the face by Changbin. He looks up to him with wide, expecting eyes that had started to tear up. They exchange a couple confused glances for a second, before Changbin repeats himself, a little more timid this time, as if Chan’s reaction could cause him to completely fall apart into a mess. “Chan, what’s your colour?” 

“Uh,” the black-haired man takes a second, blinking the tears away as he shakes his head a couple of times and regains his focus. “Green.”

“Really?” Changbin’s voice is nervous, yet excited, his eyes lighting up as soon as the words leave Chan’s lips. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Still green. Do your worst.”

Changbin snorts. “You can’t handle my worst. Let’s leave it like this for now. I like this. You ready?” Chan offers an affirmation, shifting his shoulder blades back, prepared for whatever Changbin was going to do.

“You wanna try begging again, you needy, horny little brat?” Changbin towers over his senior, trailing his teeth all over Chan’s neck.

“Please,” he starts, feeling a bit awkward for the words travelling through his mind, “I want you to fuck me and make me come with your cock, please.” Changbin says nothing, only digging his teeth into Chan’s neck, biting so hard all over his neck and collarbone, knowing that it was either bleeding, going to leave marks, or both. It didn’t bother him, though, as he dug his fingernails down Changbin’s back and arms, trying to leave marks of his own as he cried out in a mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

“Know your place. A pathetic slut like you wanting my cock deserves to be marked up, so that everyone knows you belong to me,” Changbin whispers in Chan’s ear as he comes up to lock eyes with him. Chan looks up at him expectantly, waiting for a kiss or some other form of intimacy, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Changbin presses up against Chan’s entrance, making eye contact with him. “Tell me what you want.”

There’s a moment of panic that flits around Chan’s stomach, making him question if he was _really_ ready to do something like this, _especially_ with his best friend. He shakes his head once, deciding that they had already gone far enough, so why not keep going?

“I,” he starts, biting his lip and sucking in a deep breath as his face warms in embarrassment, “please fuck your needy, desperate slut. Make me come for you. I want to make you happy, hyung.” Calling Changbin his hyung doesn’t quite feel right, but in the moment, Chan isn’t really sure what else to call him, since his actual name doesn’t feel right either.

Chan isn’t sure if he catches exactly what emotion passes on Changbin’s face. The change is minute, nearly unrecognizable. “A hyung kink?” Changbin softly questions himself under his breath. “Never would have guessed.” Then, Chan feels fingers around his entrance again, this time covered in more lubricant than before. As soon as they’re there, warming up against his skin, they’re gone. He’s about to protest the lack of attention, but Changbin whispers something unintelligible, then slowly pushes himself inside Chan, making sure to take in the look on his face as he slips inside.

Chan’s voice is the first thing that acknowledges the intrusion. He lets out a deep, well-rounded, throaty moan that ascends in pitch in a harmonic shift. The next thing he notices is that he’s got one hand digging into Changbin’s forearm, likely causing the brunette to bleed with how tightly he’s grabbing him.

Then it hits him all at once.

There’s a burning sensation all around his body and he feels almost as if this is the first time his nerves have come alive in his entire life. Changbin was right - it _was_ uncomfortable, incredibly so. Everything inside of him was telling him that this was weird, uncomfortable, that he should stop, but he just _couldn’t_. It was uncomfortable, but it felt so good. He managed to open his eyes and focus on Changbin’s face and the view alone was good enough to get him close to orgasm.

“Fuck,” Changbin breathes out under his breath, trying so hard not to say anything that would ruin the moment or, god forbid, make it seem like he had feelings about Chan right now. He bites his lip, transfixed on watching Chan completely lose every sense of sensibility beneath him _because_ of him. Yeah, he felt incredible, wrapped up so tightly around him, but seeing his face was enough to make his heart stop. 

They stare at each other for a moment, and Changbin drops the act. “I can’t do it,” he says, dropping down to hastily and sloppily kiss the man beneath him. This crazy, handsome, intelligent man was all his for tonight, and he was going to take advantage of it for as long as he could. “Chan,” he breathes out, “baby,” words coming up as a staccato between each kiss, “I can’t, I’m not gonna treat you like that, not for your first time.” He makes his way completely inside Chan and bottoms out, breaking away from his kiss. 

“God,” he moans into Chan’s neck, “you just feel so good.” He takes a minute, then pushes himself up with one arm, cradling Chan’s face with his other hand. “I wanna completely ruin you for anyone else, but tonight,” he bends back down to kiss Chan again, “I just want this to be perfect.”

Chan’s body feels like it’s absolutely vibrating from head to toe. The feeling of the connection between him and Changbin was enough to drive him clinically insane. “Changbin,” he whines out, his voice cracking as he tries to speak. Words refuse to come to him as he hyper-focuses on every micro-movement that Changbin makes inside and around him. 

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Changbin says, tilting Chan’s chin to meet his lips. “You fit so perfectly around me. It’s like you were made for me, like I was made for you.” Chan looks up at Changbin, the two of them exchanging a needy, wanting look with each other. If they could tell the other how much they cared about the other man with just their eyes, if it was even possible, that was the nonverbal discussion they were having.

However, both of them were tipsy cowards that were absolutely emotionally wrecked. Changbin would settle for the next best thing, hoping that Chan didn’t see the tears building from his eyes. He clears his throat as best as he can and shakes his head. “I’m gonna move, baby, alright? It’s gonna feel weird and awkward, but I’ve got you.” He reaches down, cradling Chan’s face in his palm. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Chan nods his head, reaching up to grab Changbin’s hand, interweaving his fingers into the warm hand against his face. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, timidly maintaining eye contact with Changbin. “I trust you, Binnie.”

Changbin sighs, leaning down on his free arm, pulling Chan’s face into his and gripping his fingers firmly. He doesn’t say anything, just gingerly presses his lips to his senior’s, starting to slowly rock his hips.

“Bin,” Chan subconsciously cries out against Changbin’s lips, but Changbin pulls him in closer, muffling the noises that Chan tries to make. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Changbin whispers against Chan’s lips, stroking his face with his thumb. “It’s alright. It’s gonna be fine. Do you need me to stop?”

Chan shakes his head, breaking from the kiss for a moment. “I’m fine, I’m fine, keep going,” he pants out, then aggressively pushes back up against Changbin’s lips. 

That’s all it takes for Changbin. He leans fully onto the elbow against the bed, adjusting his body slightly, pulling away from Chan’s kiss. “I wanna watch you come undone,” he breathes out as he presses his forehead against Chan’s, thrusting into him with a gradually accelerating tempo, trying to angle his hips in just a way that he —

“Fuck!” Chan’s back arches as he cries out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” he pants out, eyes wide open in trepidation as he stares into Changbin’s eyes. 

A devilish smirk comes up on Changbin’s face as he watches Chan start to unravel and panic. “It’s okay, baby,” he coos, gripping Chan’s hand tighter as he continues to rock his hips back and forth. “I’m gonna make you come all for me, okay? You’re going to feel so good, baby, I promise.”

The pressure inside of Chan’s abdomen is almost too much to handle. He very nearly reaches down to palm himself, but he can’t quite get the nerves in his arm to coordinate well enough to make a fluid motion. “I can’t,” he whines, “I wanna,” closing his eyes tightly so hard that tears start beading up in the corners. He rolls his head against the pillow behind him, “feels like I’m gonna, but, I can’t…” 

Changbin watches Chan writhe underneath him, predicting that he was getting close. He pulls his hand off of Chan’s face, the older man not even noticing, and he reaches down to grasp Chan’s cock, stroking it gently, just to help coax him along.

“Bin,” Chan whines, opening one of his eyes as he trembles beneath his superior, “baby, please.”

“What?” Changbin nearly whispers. “Tell your hyung what you want.”

“I wanna,” a choke comes up Chan’s throat as he arches his back, “wanna come for you, I’m so close for you, Seo-hyung.”

Changbin tightly grips Chan’s cock, causing him to let out a bit of a mewl. He slowly strokes it up and down, varying the pressure of his fingers around him. He leans down to press his lips against the older man’s, to which Chan responds with a panicked quiver. Changbin breaks away, moving up to his ear. “Come.”

That’s the magic word Chan needed to hear.

Chan completely unravels, his back arching up as Changbin pulls back, watching as Chan paints himself, and Changbin, in long, sticky ropes of warm cum. “Oh my god,” the older man whispers as he comes undone, looking up at Changbin. “Binnie,” he practically cries as he shakily tries to pull him in for a kiss.

Changbin nudges his face up into Chan’s, continuing to move up inside of him. The overstimulation causes him to panic for a minute, but Changbin pulls him into his arms. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m almost there.” The two share a few messy kisses as Changbin pumps in and out of the man beneath him. He’s about to come when the oxytocin rush causes him to make the dumbest mistake of his life.

“I love you, Chan,” he whispers as he comes with a final thrust. “So, so much.”

The two of them silently stay in their sticky, salty embrace long enough for the air to start to chill around them as they moved. Changbin is the first to move, pulling himself out of Chan and he rolls over onto his back. It’s too dark to see, but there’s a look of terror on his face as he looks up into the ceiling. The realization that he admitted his love far too soon and at a terrible rams into him faster than a bullet train. 

Changbin grits his teeth so hard, he’s afraid they’re going to break. A million reasons to get up and run fly past him in his head. Were they going to be able to laugh it off? Could he just get up, walk to the washroom, and hope that Chan would be out by the time he got back? It’s almost like he could hear the sound of snoring in actual high-definition, almost as if it was happening right next to him.

He timidly turns his head to his left side, hoping not to meet Chan’s eyes. Luckily, his ears were not deceiving him: the man was completely out of it, sleeping peacefully right next to Changbin.

“Thank god,” he whispers under his breath and sighs. He sits up, looking back down at Chan. He grabs the towel from the table, wiping the mess off of the sleeping man’s stomach. Changbin then pulls the blanket next to the table over Chan, making sure that all of his skin is covered, before he gets up to walk off to the washroom.

“Fuck,” he says with a sigh, running his hands through his hair as he walks into the washroom and closes the door. He tells himself he won’t break down into an absolute mess as soon as the door closes, but he knows that’s a lie.

* * *

“So,” Chan says, tossing a flat pillow over to Changbin on his futon. The sudden collision of pillow to face shocks Changbin so much that he drops his phone, jolting partially upright almost instantaneously. “We gonna talk about last night, or are you just going to fuck around on your phone and ignore me?”

Changbin rolls his eyes, taking the pillow into his face as he falls backwards and groans in desperation. “Can we not?” He grumbles into the pillow, clearly embarrassed. 

“No,” Chan says, getting off of his mat and walking over to Changbin’s. He swings one leg over the younger man, bending down and grabbing the pillow, lifting it away and tossing it backwards. “We’re talking about this.”

Changbin covers his face with his hands, but Chan sinks down and pulls them away, resting on his knees. “You’re not my type, I’m not your type” Changbin grumbles, turning his head away and closing his eyes with a slight pout, “what more is there to talk about?”

“The fact that you’re my best friend and I would really like to not fuck that up.” Chan scowls, grabbing either side of Changbin’s face. “Is this a one-time thing, or are we gonna talk about it?”

“I don’t know!” Changbin slaps Chan’s hands away from him and frowns. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think I’d be good for you and I don’t wanna do that to you.” He sighs heavily, finally looking up into Chan’s eyes. They both stare at each other uncomfortably for a minute.

Chan tucks his head into his hand, rubbing his temples and sighs. “Alright, look. You can’t just fuck someone and tell them that you love them,” Chan grumbles, “that’s not how this works. I don’t wanna fuck this up, Changbin.” He sucks in air through his teeth as he tilts his head backward and rests on the palms of his hands. “I care about you, you know.”

Oh no.

This feeling and the tone of Chan’s voice was familiar. It felt like a weight had been dropped on Changbin’s abdomen. The air in the room shifted, and it started to taste like despair, regret, and _rejection_.

“I really do,” Chan continues, making a pointed effort not to look at the brunette. “But,” there was always a ‘but’, wasn’t there? “I don’t know if we’d really, y’know,” he rubs the back of his head nervously, “work out. Like, don’t get me wrong, last night was absolutely incredible. I just can’t risk fucking this up since -“

“We’re the only person we’ve got.” Changbin finishes Chan’s sentence with a sarcastic scoff, biting back the tears that stung at the corners of his eyes. He had been rejected before, sure, but everything else paled in comparison to the excruciating, burning, gnawing feeling that was eating him from the inside out. He had to stay calm, couldn’t show Chan that he was panicking, on the verge of breaking down in tears. 

Changbin pulls his legs out from underneath Chan, stands up, avoiding even looking anywhere near Chan. He reaches down to the pack of cigarettes that Chan left on the table, stealing a couple from the papery packet, along with Chan’s lucky black lighter and his passport and wallet. “Figures. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t be such a fucking coward with your feelings.”

“Binnie,” Chan starts, but is abruptly cut off by Changbin waving a dismissive hand behind him.

“Don’t ‘Binnie’ me, not right now. Not when you’re gonna break my fucking heart and pretend like everything’s gonna be alright.” He kicks his slippers off and hastily slides his feet into his trainers, deciding he’ll tie them when he’s out on the street. Chan starts shuffling behind him, sounding like he was about to get up. “Leave me alone. I’ll bring your lighter back later.” He sighs as he opens the door. “Never should have fucking bothered.”

“Bin,” Chan says, but Changbin leaves the room and slams the door behind him before he can get another word in. 

Changbin barely makes it outside the front door of the inn before he completely breaks down. God, how could he have been so stupid? Of course this was a stupid idea, Chan was just a friend. His _best_ friend. He shakily brings up one of the lightly crushed cigarettes to his mouth, failing to get the lighter to start with several flicks.

Just his fucking luck. Chan’s supposedly lucky lighter wasn’t working.

He wanted to throw the lighter at the vending machine across the alleyway, but he decided he would respect Chan enough for now and keep it. Changbin drops the cigarette from his mouth and aggressively stomps on it several times, grinding the tobacco into the pavement, trying his damnedest to get the atoms to collide and become one with each other.

The tears don’t stop falling from his eyes, falling down and temporarily staining the pavement. How could he be so fucking _stupid?_

Changbin throws his head back and shouts in anguish, hoping and praying that Chan would hear him and feel at least a bit of residual guilt. He knew the balcony door was still open, and Chan probably found the complimentary matches on the table. The probability that he was outside smoking was high enough for Changbin to be confident in thinking that Chan was outside at the same moment as him.

Let it fucking hurt him, he thought. Let him feel regret.

He stopped screaming abruptly, then took a moment to catch his breath. Changbin bends down to hastily tie his shoes up before heading to the FamilyMart down at the corner of the alley. 

“Thank fucking god drinking outside is legal here,” Changbin grumbles under his breath as he reaches into the cooler and grabs a couple cans of some alcohol that was specifically _not_ Strong Zero. Just seeing the labelling of the packaging made his stomach turn.

He takes the cans and, in his best broken Japanese, he asks for a pack of whatever cigarettes were closest to him. The cashier cocks his head to the side, trying to piece together what Changbin is asking. It takes a minute, but he grabs a plain black package with green accents. 

Fucking _menthols_. Changbin couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he recognizes the packaging. The same cigarettes that Chan smoked when he snuck up to the rooftop to ditch class. The same cigarettes that Chan had smoked right before the first time they kissed as they got drunk at Chan’s parents’ house. Changbin remembers Chan tasting like burnt, rotten mint leaves and stale lager.

Luck was not on Changbin’s side tonight.

“Lighter?” The clerk slowly asks, holding up a white lighter that he grabbed haphazardly from the display. Changbin nods his head, fishing for his passport in his back pocket. As he flips to his identification page, the clerk shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, scanning up all of the items. “¥1,150,” he says, bagging everything up. 

Changbin jams his passport back into his pocket, grabbing his wallet. He flips through it and digs out a ¥2,000 note, passing it off to the clerk, who gives him a ¥50 coin and some bills in return and passes him the handles of the bag. “Thanks,” Changbin grumbles, taking the bag and rifling through it for the pack of cigarettes as he walks out of the store. He aimlessly wanders down the street, not realizing that he walks right in front of the balcony of their inn. He’s too entranced in trying to get this goddamn cigarette out of the packet and get it fucking lit.

Chan is staring off into the horizon, a lit cigarette idly burning between his teeth, not really paying attention until he hears a familiar voice grumbling coming from the street. Changbin walks past him, clearly struggling with what he assumes is a pack of cigarettes. Chan ducks down, trying to hide, just in case Changbin turns his head, but making sure that he’s still able to watch the younger man out of curiosity.

“Stupid fucking,” Changbin’s irritated voice drifts up to the balcony as he lights the cigarette, coughing a couple of times after he inhales. He reaches for something else inside the bag, pulling out a can, opening it and taking a quick swig. “How the fuck does he do this shit?”

Chan peers over the railing, watching the younger man take another drag from his lit cigarette. 

“Fuck menthols, fuck this stupid lighter, fuck your stupid Strong Zero,” he mutters as he walks away, taking another drink from his can, wiping at his face. “Fuck you, Chan.”

* * *

It was pitch black by the time that Changbin stumbled his way back to the room. He aggressively collides into the door, startling Chan awake. “Shoulda brought a key. Dammit,” Changbin slurs his words together as he leans up against the door, hoping that he’s loud enough for Chan to hear him. “Channie, lemme in. I’m not gonna try nothin’.” A giggle bubbles up from him as Chan approaches the door. “I would, though.”

Chan sighs, sleepily unlocking the door, sliding it open. Changbin stumbles upright from off the door, looking up at Chan. “Channie,” the younger man says with a lazy smile as he shoves past the black-haired man. The scent of stale menthol cigarettes and sickly sweet chu-hai trails in behind Changbin as he giggles and flops his way onto Chan’s futon.

“Dunno if this is my bed,” he mumbles into the blanket and curls up into a ball. “Don’t care. Mine now. Least you could do.”

Chan irritatingly slams the door shut, locking it with a firm click. He sighs deeply and raises his hands to his temples, rubbing his fingers against the firm skin in circles. There was no way that Changbin was _this_ drunk after only a couple hours, but it was likely he didn’t eat anything while he was binge drinking.

“I hate you,” Changbin mutters into Chan’s pillow. “Smells like you everywhere. This’s your bed, innit? Smells soft ’n musky, like your conditioner.”

Changbin’s insincere confession of hatred makes Chan’s stomach turn and causes his blood to run cold. He always knew that Changbin was bad at handling rejection, but this was an entirely new feeling that Chan had, and he was hating every minute of it. “Binnie,” Chan starts, but Changbin lazily rolls over, throwing a finger in the air, pointing somewhere towards the ceiling.

“Nope!” He confidently shouts. “You,” he drops his arm, pointing somewhere behind Chan, “you lost your right to call me Binnie. Least for now. I’m mad at you.” The younger man erupts in giggles, but Chan finds nothing funny about this.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Changbin,” he says, walking towards Changbin’s abandoned futon. “You’re too drunk and too emotional.”

“Emotional,” Changbin says as he giggles harder. “That’sa good one, Channie. Could you imagine actually feeling an emotion t’wards someone? That’s funny. Fewer people ya get close to, fewer risks ya’ve to get hurt. Silly Channie, just lookit me. I thought my best friend loved me, but I sure was wrong ‘bout that, huh? What an idiot, yeah?”

Chan dips his head into his hands, mindlessly stroking strands of hair between his fingertips. He was glad that Changbin was absolutely hammered and it was pitch black, otherwise it would be very obvious that he was trying not to completely break down. The tears falling from his eyes stung as they landed on his exposed calves. A searing pain burned up from his stomach all the way to his jawbone and nausea started to envelope his entire abdomen, wrapping him in a sickly embrace.

God, he wanted nothing more than to slap Changbin or scream; probably both.

Chan inhales deeply, trying to steady his voice. “Changbin,” he whimpers, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I know you’re not gonna remember this in the morning, but I will never hate you. You’re my brother by the code, which means we’re stuck together for life. We took the blood pact together.”

Changbin shuffles a bit, turning towards Chan.

“We’re in this for life. I told you already, I just don’t wanna fuck this up.” Chan sighs, lifting his head to look over to Changbin. He can’t see much in the darkness, but the whites of Changbin’s eyes are visible, which is good enough for Chan. “I don’t hate you. I love you, just maybe not the way you want me to right now. But it’s the way you need me right now. I do love you, Changbin.”

“Yeah,” Changbin sleepily grumbles, the whites of his eyes no longer visible to Chan. “’s nice. Night, Channie.”

Chan rolls his eyes and tilts his head back in frustration. This man was going to be the death of him.

* * *

They don’t talk about it the next morning, either. Changbin is too busy vomiting in the washroom to think of anything other than regretting just how much chu-hai a normal-sized adult man could consume in the span of a couple of hours, especially regretting the way it tasted coming back up, mixed with the flavour of acrid, stale menthol cigarettes.

“Bin,” Chan knocks on the door of the washroom a couple times, “I grabbed some stuff from the convenience store. It’s not gonna make your hangover go away, but it’ll make you feel a little better. Grabbed you some Pocari and some other stuff the worker suggested.”

Changbin rested his head on the floor, rolling his eyes back and rubbing his clammy forehead. “Yeah, yeah,” he groans with a rasp in his voice, rough and gravelly from repeatedly getting sick for the past hour. “Whatever, just bring it in here.”

“Alright,” Chan says, opening the door gently and stepping in.

Oh. 

He was expecting Changbin to look miserable, but he wasn’t expecting him to be shirtless, lying on the floor. Chan was trying diligently to stay respectful, to not look at how his superior’s skin glistened with sweat across his muscles and the way it shone as his chest rose and fell, not to mention how —

“What?” Changbin groans, ripping Chan from his daydream. “Come here to make me more miserable or something?”

“Ah, no,” Chan shakes his head, pulling out a bottle with a slightly cloudy liquid and a blue label on it. “Here’s the Pocari.” He passes the bottle down to Changbin and the younger man takes it, bringing the cool plastic to his forehead, whining as the cool condensation hits his skin.

“Thanks.” Changbin insincerely grumbles. “Now get out and leave me alone.”

* * *

They don’t talk about it the next day. They don’t talk about it on the flight home to Seoul. They don’t talk at all until they land. 

“I’m catching an Uber.” Changbin doesn’t bother turning to look at Chan as he walks away. “See you at the meeting tomorrow.”

Chan doesn’t really know how to respond, but the pit of regret grows in his stomach as grabs his car keys, staying in one spot and staring at Changbin as he drifts out of view. He fumbled with the fob in between his fingers as he bit his lip. Did he really make the right choice? He should have run after him, begging him to stop, to apologize, to get him to look at him and talk just one more time.

But he didn’t budge. He continued to nervously chew on his lip as a tear fell down his face, spinning on his heel as he walked to the parking garage. 

They never should have slept with each other. Changbin would have never admitted his love. They would never have gotten into this messy situation. Chan would never have realized he was in love with Changbin. Now, it was all fucked up and they would never be able to truly reconcile. Chan stormed off towards his car and bit his lip so hard he knew he drew blood. It didn’t matter. Let the blood and tears run down his face, fuck it.

* * *

Changbin got into the back of the black car that pulled up and matched the licence plate on his phone. He slammed the door shut and tossed his bag on to the seat next to him.

“Hey there. I’m Wonho. What kind of music do you want to listen to?” The driver, a middle aged man with black hair turned to look at him, smiling a fake customer service-type smile.

“Go nuts,” Changbin offers a half smile back at the man, “I don’t have a preference.” He waved his hand in the air and turned to look out the window.

“Alrighty then.” Wonho pushed a couple of buttons on the display screen in his car, then some smooth electronica came quietly pumping through the speakers. “Let me know if you want me to change it.”

Changbin lets out a noncommittal grumble, bringing his arm of the door of the car, resting his head on his hand. He stared at the airport as they drove away, contemplating his entire life. Sleeping with Chan was, simultaneously, the best and worst choice he had ever made in his entire life. 

It was the best because it felt so good. It didn’t just physically feel good, but the way that they emotionally connected was out of this world. That was the only reason it was the best choice of his life.

It was the worst because it fucked everything up. They would never be the same, and Changbin knew that down in the pit of his soul, and it _hurt_. There was no way they could ever go back to being just best friends, not after this. Not after he was such an idiot and stormed off and had a drunken tantrum. He should have been a fucking adult and owned up to his feelings, pridefully wearing them on his shoulder. 

A stupid idea pops up into the back of his head as he pulls out his phone. He scrolls inanely and types out a quick text message. Barely a moment passes and he gets an alert, and a cheeky grin comes up on his face. “Hey, Wonho?”

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you to drop me off somewhere else. Seems my plans have changed.”

* * *

Changbin steps out of the car and offers a polite wave to Wonho before he drives off. He sucks in a deep breath as he slings his bag over his shoulder, making his way up to the apartment complex. He stood at the edge of the staircase and awkwardly waited for a few moments before the door opened.

“Seo?” A man slightly older than Changbin speaks up, standing in the doorway. “I thought the meeting was tomorrow?”

“That’s not what I’m here for, Lee. I’m not here for business, so please just drop the honourifics.” Changbin presses, nervously taking a step closer to the man. “You broke up with Han, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Want some company? Chan and I…” He trails off, staring off just past the man’s shoulder. “I fucked it up and I’m upset and you’re the first person I thought of.”

The older black-haired man sputters a couple of times, his eyes wide at the realization of what Changbin was _really_ asking for hit him. “Oh. Sure, but, like,” he shakes his head, “why me?”

“I don’t know.” Changbin chokes out as he bites back tears. “I don’t really care. Do you want company or not, Minho?”

Minho blinks a few times, then grabs Changbin’s hand with a huff. “Yeah, actually, I could use someone like you right now, Changbin.”

The two of them don’t say anything else as they make their way into the building. There’s no need for words, no need for emotions. Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider leaving a comment. they make my day. ♡


	2. prologue II: until your hatred for me turns into anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho breaks up with his boyfriend, Jisung, and his supervisor, Changbin, quickly finds solace in his arms. Chan figures out that Minho and Changbin fucked, and he's not happy about it. The deal in Shanghai goes south quickly, and someone gets shot and needs to be nursed back to health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recommended tracks: playlist is [here.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLy7IldVlbSYv1yh8xG8Y9BZeG7PzRgjs3)
> 
> disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now. 
> 
> **friendly notice:** this chapter contains fist fights, gun violence, elements of d/s (there's a sir/boy dynamic during the last sex scene), snowballing, and **lots** of feelings and angst. if cheating makes you uncomfortable, elements of it start in this chapter and don't stop for a while; they'll only get worse as time goes on and explicit cheating does happen in later chapters. also i make a couple of puns.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” 

“Minho, I —“

“I don’t fucking care. I told you,” the voice belonging to an older man presses, “we’re through, Jisung. I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

“But I love you, Min.” The younger man’s voice cracks as he takes a step forward to grasp at Minho’s collar, but the older man slaps his hands away.

“We’re done. Get out.” His tone is venomous, a scowl plastered on his face. 

Jisung stares up at him, tears starting to stream down his face. “I though you loved me,” he meekly whispers.

Minho rolls his eyes as he grabs Jisung’s arm and drags him a couple of steps towards the door. He unlocks the door and opens it wide, holding open for him. “No. I don’t love anyone; it’s not what I do and you _know_ that. We’ve done this too much and you should know better by now. Now get out, Han.”

The sudden change of tone and formality shocks both of them; it so smoothly slips off of Minho’s tongue. They stare wildly at each other for a moment, until Jisung finally relents and turns to face the door with a huff. “I don’t know why you won’t just fucking commit, Minho. You’re gonna die alone, and that’s on you.”

Jisung doesn’t bother fixing the loose shoestrings on his feet, he just makes his way out, stomping through the doorway, making his way to the elevator.

Minho sighs, slamming the door after Jisung steps out. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he lets a single tear fall from his eyes. Jisung was right: he should have just committed, but he desperately needed the money that this job would offer. Jisung would find someone new, someone better for him, he figured. He rapidly starts tapping away at his phone’s screen to send off a text message.

> 18:57 | sent: it’s done, I’m all in now

“This fucking blows,” he groans, lazily sliding his feet through the hallways and off into the kitchen. Minho opens the refrigerator door and rifles around to find some leftovers from the night before. Jisung wouldn’t be able to eat his share, so Minho decided he’d just help himself to whatever stupid dish was in the box.

As he dumped the leftovers onto a plate and popped it in the microwave, his phone started buzzing. Minho pulled the phone out of his pocket, hoping to some deity that it wasn’t Jisung whining to him; that was the last thing he needed right now. A smile creeps up on his face when he realizes that it wasn’t Jisung, but his supervisor instead.

> 18:59 | seo changbin: good  
> 18:59 | seo changbin: sorry you had to do that but it’s too late for regrets  
> 19:00 | seo changbin: once bang and I are back from tokyo I’d like to iron out the details about shanghai with you   
> 19:01 | seo changbin: hyungnim and I are very impressed by your dossier and I wanna put you to the test  
> 19:01 | seo changbin: on a real job this time

There was a slight smirk that creeps up Minho’s face as he chews over the words that Changbin had sent him. He really wanted to make some sort of inappropriate quip, but he decided to remain professional and bite his tongue.

> 19:02 | sent: understood seo, see you tomorrow

He locked his phone, sliding it in his back pocket. Minho didn’t really want to end things with Jisung, but this kind of life was too much for him. It would only end in pain and misery, and Jisung deserved so much more than that. Jisung was too innocent, unlike Minho. Maybe he actually did love him, in some strange, fucked up way, but it wasn’t the way that Jisung needed. That kind of love was something Minho could never give him, no matter how much he wanted to.

As horrible as it was to end things with Jisung, Minho desperately wanted to fuck his supervisor and couldn’t get the thought out of his head. It wasn’t that he was attracted to Changbin — not really, at least — but he had a bit of a power complex. If someone had more power than him in any sort of dynamic, it made him uneasy. Changbin would be a challenge, which Minho welcomed with open arms. It was obvious that there was some sort of weird shit going on between him and Chan, and Minho wasn’t sure if he was ready to get in between that.

Minho grabs the lukewarm jjajangmyeon from the microwave, not even bothering to make sure it was fully heated. The heat from his thoughts about someday bending his supervisor over the kitchen counter in front of him was enough to warm his insides.

* * *

Minho woke up late the next day, face down in his pillow. He sleepily reached for his phone, grabbing it off of the end table. It was still early in the afternoon, thankfully, but he knew he should clean up. He had no idea if Changbin was actually coming over to discuss Shanghai today, but he should be prepared for anything. With a huff, he sat up, brushing old crumbs off of his shirt, then stretched, and stood up, making his way towards his washroom for a quick shower.

A while passes. Minho showers, preps a boring dinner, and eventually finds himself on the couch watching old re-runs of some drama he hated before his phone buzzes again. He picks it up and instantly smirks. Just the man he was thinking about.

> 17:47 | seo changbin: I just landed and I need a favour  
> 17:47 | seo changbin: can I come over and you just don’t tell anyone about it?

Minho cocked his eyebrow up as he read over the text messages a few times. This was bound to be interesting.

> 17:48 | sent: yeah sure whatever you need, come over  
> 17:48 | seo changbin: thanks. please don’t tell anyone I came over   
> 17:48 | sent: yeah I got u the first time bruh  
> 17:49 | seo changbin: don’t call me bruh ever again I swear to god I will kill you

* * *

It was about an hour since Minho last received a text from Changbin, which meant he had to be close. Incheon wasn’t terribly far away from where Minho lived in Gangnam-gu, only a bit over an hour and ten minutes. Almost as if on cue, a soft ding came from his phone.

> 18:55 | seo changbin: I’ll be there in a minute or so  
> 18:55 | seo changbin: meet you outside?

Minho glanced over his apartment one more time, making sure everything looked presentable, before he grabbed his keys, slipped on a pair of plastic slippers, then made his way downstairs. He didn’t bother with the elevator, he just barrelled down the ten flights of stairs. One foot in front of the other, practically flying down the stairs, until he made his way to the bottom floor. Minho popped the stairwell door open, adjusted his shoulders, rolling his neck, and he saw him.

His supervisor was standing, timid and shy, curled into himself a bit, with his hood over his head, trying to make himself invisible, all in front of the glass entrance door. Minho furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head a bit; this wasn’t a side of Changbin he had ever seen before, and it was peculiar. He wasn’t always cold and calculated?

With a long, steady inhale, Minho opened the door. “Seo?” He takes a second, clears his throat, and tries again. “I thought the meeting was tomorrow?”

It’s minute, but it’s there: Minho catches Changbin bite the bottom of his lip and timidly dart his eyes to the corner, looking far away. He was clearly nervous about something. “That’s not what I’m here for, Lee,” he shakes his head, “I’m not here for business, so please drop the honourifics.” A beat passes, and Changbin takes a nervous step closer to Minho, closing the distance in between them. 

“You broke up with Han, right?”

Minho squints. “Yeah?” There was no way this was going where he expected it to.

Changbin takes in a sharp breath. “Want some company? Chan and I…” His voice falters, and he aimlessly stares off behind Minho, eyes full of pain. The rest of their conversation went in one ear and out the other for Minho, it wasn’t important now.

There was no way this was happening. Minho shook his head several times, but he found himself silently pulling his supervisor through the corridor, gripping his hand a bit tighter the entire way up the elevator, and to his apartment. It wasn’t until Minho had pressed Changbin up against the back of his apartment door, hands tangled in his hair, mouths haphazardly squished up against each other, when this started to feel some semblance of real.

* * *

“Has anyone ever told you,” Minho panted, the sound of skin slapping reverberating through the room, “that you have a really nice ass?” 

Changbin whined as Minho relentlessly thrusted into him, gripping the bedsheets between his fingertips so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Relinquishing control to another person for one night is exactly what he needed. He wanted Minho to fuck the thought of Chan out of his head, but he was still catching himself thinking about how badly he wanted Minho to be Chan.

Minho takes a thick fistful of Changbin’s hair and uses it to pull his head up, causing Changbin to yelp as he was, quite literally, ripped from his thoughts. The older, black-haired man bends forward, bringing his lips to nearly touch the younger man’s ear. “I asked you a question. Who do you belong to tonight?”

Changbin chokes out a pained moan. “You, Minho. I, ah, belong to you tonight.”

“That’s right.” Minho sneers down at the man beneath him. “Never thought I’d be lucky enough to say I’ve fucked my boss, but here we are. How’s that make you feel, hyungie?” The older man condescendingly mocks his superior as he grips Changbin’s hair a little harder, earning a high-pitched whimper from him. “You like your subordinate’s cock railing you so hard you can’t even think straight?”

Changbin lets out a small whimper, but Minho doesn’t appreciate this. He leans back, winding his arm behind him, and lets off a firm smack against Changbin’s ass, causing the younger man to cry out and fall into the pillow in front of him; he was the antithesis of what a good, strong leader should be right now, and he didn’t give a shit.

“Answer me.” Minho demands firmly, stilling his movements.

Changbin bites back a growl, knowing he shouldn’t let his subordinate speak to him like this, but he simply can’t resist the feeling of relinquishing complete control. “I do, I love it when you’re inside me. Keep fucking me, or I’m gonna fire you.” His tone was surprisingly sincere.

“You’re a kinky bastard, ain’t ya?” There’s a devious smile that comes back up on Minho’s face. “You fuck one subordinate, then come crawling to another one for crumbs, begging for me to degrade you and slap you around a little bit.” Changbin flings his head back and stares at Minho with wide, terrified eyes. His quip may have dug in a little too deep, but Minho didn’t care right now. “Relax, I’m not gonna tell anyone. Don’t wanna ruin the possibility of this happening again.”

There was no way this _should_ happen again, both Minho and Changbin knew that, No risk, no reward, right?

* * *

Minho’s alarm startled them both awake at 08:27. He never set his alarm for practical times.

“Shit,” Changbin grumbled as he rolled over, eyes blinking rapidly as he stared at the man next to him. His eyes widen as he sees Minho right there, fumbling on his phone. The older man drops his phone to his chest, then brings his hands behind his head.

“So,” he scoffs, “on a scale of one to ten, how much do you regret last night?”

Changbin takes a moment to compose himself, looking away and shaking his head. “Actually, I don’t regret it at all.” He timidly lifts his head to meet Minho’s eyes. “What about you?”

Minho scoffs, “I never regret anything. Life’s too short. Anyway,” he groans as he sits up, stretching his arms, “wanna go grab some coffee with me? We don’t have a crazy amount of time prior to our meeting today, so you’re not gonna have enough time to go home and change.” He shuffles to his feet, slipping across the floor and over to his closet.

“I mean,” Changbin starts, a wave of nervousness washing over him. “I guess it’s fine.” He shouldn’t’ve cared what Chan was going to think when he showed up to the meeting with Minho, but the thought still crept up into his head. It was invasive, like a tick burrowing into skin. The thought of Chan’s arms around him, the way his lips felt against his neck, the way his fingers trailed down his back, all of it was distracting.

“Oi,” Minho groans, tossing a plain black button-up shirt at Changbin. “This’ll probably fit you. Just toss it over your shirt. Do you have a pair of slacks in that bag of yours?”

Changbin shakes his head, unbuttoning the buttons of the dress shirt. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, “thanks, Minho.”

“Guess I gotta call you hyung again, huh?”

A lazy smirk creeps up on Changbin’s face as he turns to look at Minho. Chan was right: he did have a type, and Minho really did fit it. “Yeah, but only when we’re around other people. Don’t think I’m giving you special treatment because you fucked me, though.”

“You got it, boss.” Minho laughs, spinning on his heel as he turns to walk back to his closet.

* * *

09:45. They had arrived fifteen minutes early. Changbin and Minho stepped out of the elevator together, walking towards the conference room. Surprisingly, Chan and the new medic, Felix, had already arrived. Not surprisingly, Hyunjin wasn’t early, which meant he wasn’t going to be here on time, which meant he was going to be late and Changbin was going to get reamed for it.

As Changbin chews over the thought, pulling out his phone to harass Hyunjin, Chan lifts his head, turning to look at the elevator bay doors opening, watching Minho and Changbin walk out together. He had never seen that specific dress shirt on Changbin before, and they were holding cups from the same coffee shop.

There was no way.

“Bang, Lee,” Minho curtly says, avoiding eye contact with Chan as he offers a slight tip of his head. “Long time no see.”

“Nice to see you again, Lee-hyung,” the younger, bleach-blond haired man says, offering a slightly deeper bow in respect. 

“Ah, jeez, Minho is fine, Felix,” Minho quips. “We’re all blood brothers here, no need for formalities.” He flits his eyes over to Chan and smirks. The two of them stare each other down, and Chan’s suspicions start to rise. Changbin would never. 

Would he?

“I’m gonna kill that prick,” Changbin grumbles under his breath, jamming his phone into his back pocket and taking large, loud strides over to the group, choosing to stand close to Felix and deliberately, pointedly avoiding Minho and Chan, who were carefully staring him down. “You just finished nursing school, Lee?”

The blond man nods his head once. “Yes, hyung. Top of my class.”

Changbin adjusts his wristwatch and looks up at him. “You sure you really wanna be a part of this life? Once you’re in, you’re in.” He jams the plastic straw of his drink into his mouth and chews on it.

Chan frowns. “He already took the blood oath.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Bang.” Changbin rolls his eyes, glaring at the older man, his tone pure ice and venom. Minho tries his hardest not to burst out laughing as his eyes practically bulge out of his head in response. He bites his lip and covers his mouth with his hand; he was going to love watching the two of them tear into each other.

Felix, the poor young man, looks wildly confused, but wisely chooses not to press the issue. “It’s true. I knew what I signed up for when I was offered the job.” He shifts, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I might not be a great shot, but I’ll be able to stitch you up if someone wants to turn you into Swiss cheese.”

Minho politely laughs at Felix’s attempt at a joke, but the air is tense as Chan is continuing to scowl at Changbin. He _absolutely_ fucked Minho last night, and it was glaringly obvious. Every time Changbin fucked someone, he got flighty, distant, and weird around Chan, as if he was trying to hide it. 

His feet move without even thinking. He advances towards Changbin, gripping his arm tightly, pulling him away from the small group. “What the fuck, Bang?” Changbin shouts as he’s dragged away.

“Oh, shit, lovers' quarrel.” Minho says with a laugh. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his cackling.

Chan pulls them both into the men’s washroom, shoving Changbin by the shoulders into the empty room. “You fucked Minho.”

“What do you care? Jealous?” Changbin smirks in response, clearly not denying the accusation.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? You’re gonna fuck me, then get mopey and move to the next subordinate that’s available?” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, folding his arms. “Felix is a little out of your preferred age range, don’t you think?”

Changbin grits his teeth and leaps forward, taking his right fist and colliding it into Chan’s face. “You arrogant sack of shit,” he spits out. Chan takes his elbow and rams it into Changbin’s face as payment for the punch he received.

“Oh, fuck off.” He takes his hands and grips Changbin’s collar, throwing him up into the wall behind them. “You’re just acting out and pouting because you were rejected.”

The smirk on Chan’s face made Changbin’s blood boil. “At least I know I have feelings, unlike you, you stupid… goddamn,” he stutters, grabbing Chan’s collar. 

“What?”

He shouldn’t do it, and he knew it. There was something about the testosterone flying around, the arrogance, the anger, all of it drove Changbin mad. He wanted to take Chan and fuck him right up against the wall, right then and there. Damn what Minho, Felix, or anyone else thought. So what if the hyung-nim got mad at them for being late, for fucking on his property, who cares?

Changbin sucked his lip in between his teeth and leaned in a little closer to Chan’s face. “That insubordination. I ought to—“

“Woah,” the washroom door pushed open with a squeak as Hyunjin walked in. “The fuck are you two doing? You’re not supposed to kill _each other_ , you know?” He arrogantly continued walking forward, setting his can of some cheap energy drink down on the sink as he washed his hands. 

Changbin dropped Chan’s collar, stepping to the side, out of his grasp. All of his desire to fuck Chan right then and there dissipated into thin air. He looked down at Chan’s lips parted in anticipation as he softly panted, then back up to his eyes, pupils blown wide. Chan wanted it, too, after deliberately riling up Changbin, but he would never say it. He would never be able to hide it, though.

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled, looking at his watch. “I’m impressed you’re early for once, Hwang.” He took a step forward, adjusting the way Minho’s dress shirt rested on him, taking a quick look at himself in the mirror before he made his way to the door, sneaking a quick glance at Chan rubbing his lip, staring at him. “Make a habit of it.” 

Chan wasn’t sure if Changbin had addressed that at Hyunjin or at him.

* * *

The meeting was uneventful, just another pointless recap of how, in exactly a month and a half, the five of them would be off to Shanghai to try and sign a deal with the Triads. Changbin and Chan would be leading the group, since they were the only ones that spoke a fair amount of Mandarin. Changbin sneered at this, trying not to show his irritation too much. 

“Just my fuckin’ luck,” the leader mutters under his breath as he steps out of the conference room doors. He buries his face in his hand and sighs heavily as soon as he gets out of the doorway. He was going to have to spend more time with Chan, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Sorry you have to spend time with your blood brother,” Chan rolls his eyes, walking over towards the elevator bay. “Hope you and your next subordinate have fun.”

Changbin lifts his head from his hand, a wild scowl on his face. “I’m tired of your fucking insubordination, Bang.” He angrily stomps over towards Chan, rolling his sleeves up his arms. “I am your superior and you _will_ give me the respect I deserve.” Chan spins around, licking his bottom lip, and Changbin tucks his arm behind him, readying a punch, but a firm hand grips his bicep.

“Don’t do this here.” Minho calmly whispers, digging his fingers into Changbin’s arm as he panics. “I know you wanna lay him out, but don’t do this in front of everyone.” 

“You don’t understand, Lee, I—“

“Bang,” Minho casually ignores Changbin’s protest, “maybe you should just head home for the day, hmm? We’re all a little tense and I think we could use a break from each other.”

Chan rolls his eyes, cracking the knuckles of his hands. “Fuck off, Minho. I don’t take orders from you.”

Changbin opens his mouth to say something, but Minho beats him to it again. “You don’t,” his tone is cold, and he gets quiet, “but if you have an ounce of respect for your brothers or for Changbin, you’ll mind your fucking business. I’d be happy to discuss this with my fists, if you’d prefer that option, though.”

A scoff unexpectedly leaves Chan’s lips. He looks down to Changbin. “Hope you’re fucking happy,” he mutters, then looks up to Minho. “Your new boyfriend sucks and is probably just going to use you.” He doesn’t wait for a response as he beelines to the stairwell, decidedly not waiting for the elevator. “See you in Shanghai.”

* * *

Changbin avoids talking to Chan or Minho as much as possible over the next month and a half. There was a night where he got drunk and sexted with Minho a bit, which was fun while it lasted, but it left a bad taste in his mouth. His heart was telling him to try and mend things with Chan, but his head and his dick were telling him to pursue things with Minho.

Chan was relatively safe. Minho was risky. Changbin knew practically everything about Chan, whereas he knew nothing about Minho. He did know, however, that Minho was confident in his attraction to men, and Chan was flighty in how he really felt about men, especially about how he felt about Changbin. Chan meant eventual heartbreak. Minho may also lead to heartbreak, but it would hurt less. 

Probably.

“Are you going to be alright with this?” Minho’s voice pulled Changbin from his thoughts. He fiddled with his car keys a bit as he stared up at his supervisor. “You guys haven’t seen each other in over a month and you’re probably gonna act like idiots when you see each other.”

Changbin sighs, staring out the car window. There’s a family of three struggling to get their suitcases in the trunk of their car. “Yeah,” he says without any real interest in his voice, then turns to look at Minho. “I don’t have a choice but to be okay with this. I’ve gotta do what’s best for the family, no matter what that costs me.”

Minho softly sighs, then grabs Changbin’s hand. “I’ve got your back, for what that’s worth. Maybe once we seal this deal, we take some extra time in Shanghai, just the two of us, have a mind-blowing tryst in a seedy club somewhere. Figure out what we are, if we really want to do this.”

“I’ve got a lot of baggage,” Changbin laughs, cocking his head to the side as he interlaces his fingers between Minho’s. “First, I fucked my best friend from middle school and completely ruined that, now I’m fucking my other subordinate.”

“That’s why I like you.” Minho smirks, then leans in to kiss Changbin’s cheek. “One day at a time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Hyunjin and Felix are, surprisingly, the most obnoxious people on the entire trip. Apparently, they had been hanging out more often since the last meeting, Hyunjin was very curious about human anatomy, and Felix loved an excuse to talk about anything medical, so they had become fast friends. 

Chan didn’t bother looking at or speaking to Changbin, except for a couple of pained glances when he interacted with Minho in the same ways that they used to. Changbin would get frustrated at the small things, panic over inane things taking too much time, get irritated at not being able to have his weapons on him. Instead of being the one to comfort him, he had to watch Minho take his place and he fucking hated it.

In the aircraft, Changbin and Minho sat across the aisle, while Chan was stuck sitting next to Hyunjin and Felix talking about how the body goes into shock after losing a certain amount of blood. Something about how just under a litre would cause most people to go into shock, and two litres was almost always fatal. Chan’s face wrinkled up into a scowl listening to them talk. It was disgusting, and he was tired of it. He pulls out his phone, and pulls his earbuds out of his front pocket.

His eyes flit up as he tucks his earbuds into his ear canals. Minho has his hand on Changbin’s knee, slowly sliding it towards the inside of his thigh. The black-haired man had his attention completely on their superior, whispering something into his ear. Chan’s throat went dry at the thought of imagining the two of them together, the innocent little motion causing him to think all sorts of dirty thoughts. Did Changbin top Minho? Was Minho as freaky as Chan expected him to be? Did they cuddle after they fucked?

Shit. Chan adjusted the way he was seated in the uncomfortable chair, feeling his blood rush down to his dick, making him hard at the thought of Minho taking Changbin. As fucked up as it sounded, he wanted to watch. He wanted to see all of the things Minho would do to his best friend.

“That’s disgusting,” Hyunjin loudly whines, distracting Chan from his thoughts. “You’ve actually worked on dead bodies?”

“Yeah,” Felix waves his hand dismissively, “but it’s not as bad as you think it might be. You eventually get used to the smell of formaldehyde and decomposing flesh, as gross as it sounds.”

Well, as long as Chan didn’t turn to look at Changbin and Minho, he didn’t have to worry about getting hard again.

* * *

The five men step out of the terminal in Shanghai, taking in the night sky and the bright lights. Minho rolls the keys for the rental car in between his fingers and continues walking towards the parking garage. “Shall we?”

Changbin frowns, but follows Minho without saying anything in protest. “Let’s go.”

The rental car is nice, discreet, and simple. Changbin takes the keys from Minho at some point, with the older man sarcastically lamenting he can’t read much Mandarin, about how Changbin was so cool for being able to read and understand it enough. Chan grits his teeth, knowing that his skill in Mandarin is better, but he doesn’t care enough to try and correct either of them. He just lets it slide.

There’s no good spot in the car for Chan to sit, so he picks the least horrible spot: right behind Changbin. Felix sits in the middle, continuing his conversation about dialysis and renal failure with Hyunjin, who is actually actively interested in the gritty details.

Minho turns to look at Changbin, the display from the dashboard lighting up his face. Chan hated how good-looking Minho was. He completely understood why Changbin gravitated towards him and it caused a burning sensation to build in his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky smirk off of Minho’s face, one way or another.

* * *

The men arrive at their hotel about a half-hour later. 

“Zhang Qiu.” Changbin offers his fake name alongside his fake Chinese resident identity card. “There should be five of us on the reservation, and there should have been a package for me as well?” Changbin’s Mandarin flowed much more smoothly and naturally than his Japanese. He had practiced with Chan not long after they joined the family, knowing it would be relevant for all of the times they would be working with and against the Triads. 

The concierge leans forward, his voice low, and he speaks in Korean. “It’s in the room already. Leave it behind when you leave; we’ll take care of it and send it back to the hyung-nim.” Changbin offers a slight bow as he takes the door key from the man. 

“Thank you,” he whispers in Korean, then turns back towards the men. “Twenty-second floor. Let’s go.”

Minho sneaks up front to Changbin, whispering low in his ear. “Zhang Qiu, hmm?”

“Shut up.” Changbin rolls his eyes, stuffing his fake resident card into his wallet. 

“Who fucks better, Seo Changbin or Zhang Qiu?” A playful grin spreads on Minho’s face, and Changbin isn’t impressed, or he at least tries to hide it. “Maybe we should find out tonight.”

Chan’s nostrils flare and he angrily chews on his lips watching the men interact. He had no idea what Minho had said, but he was sure it wasn’t something he wanted to hear. 

The elevator ride up to the twenty-second floor is quiet. Minho and Changbin silently stand off to the side, Hyunjin and Felix are in the back, mindlessly discussing something about one time Felix had to help a gunshot victim in the street, and Chan tucks himself neatly into the corner away from everyone. Maybe after this was over with, he’d consider actually leaving the family, or transferring to another group, just to get away from Changbin.

A soft ding comes from the elevator as they arrive on their floor. “Room 2215,” Changbin says, coolly, stepping out of the elevator first, Minho in tow. 

“Wait,” Chan whines as he follows Hyunjin and Felix out of the elevator. “There’s only one room? For five of us?”

“It’s for two nights, Bang,” Changbin grumbles, continuing to walk down the long hallway. “Pretty sure there’s two rooms and two beds. You’ll survive two nights with all five of us.” 

If hell was real, it was here, and Chan was living through it.

* * *

The night passes with very minimal interactions. Hyunjin and Felix go out to grab some hot pot, dragging Chan with them since he’s been constantly moping around the entire day. Changbin and Minho lock themselves up in their room for a while, showering, then fucking in the shower and having to clean themselves again, then eventually ironing out some of the details of how exactly the proposal with the Triads would go tomorrow. 

“That’s it, hyung,” Felix’s voice comes up from the front door as it slams open, “okay, maybe don’t run into the door, that’s not a good idea. Hyunjin,” he presses, “I need you to grab my aid bag out of my suitcase so I can hook up Chan-hyung to an IV and get some fluids into him.”

“‘m fine,” Chan slurs, and flops down onto the floor. “It’s fine, I swear.”

“What the fuck?” Changbin sighs heavily as he enters the main room. “I thought I _explicitly_ told all three of you not to do anything stupid? Tomorrow is incredibly important and I need all three of you in your best shape.”

Felix opens his mouth to speak, but Chan rolls onto his back and points up at Changbin. “You fucked Minho,” he flatly states. “I bet you did it again while we were all out. Saw th’way you looked at each other on the flight. Used t’look at me like that. Then you stopped.”

Hyunjin ruffles a hand through his hair as he awkwardly passes Felix his aid bag. “What the fuck is happening here?” He mutters under his breath as he kneels down next to Felix, who immediately starts rifling through his bag.

“Dude, I’m not gonna ask.” He pulls out a bag of saline and a vial, along with other medical instruments to help him with Chan. “This shit is awkward. Here, hold this.”

“You stopped talking to me, Binnie,” Chan’s voice cracks, and the air gets heavy for a moment. Changbin winces as his old nickname hits his ears. Minho doesn’t bother staying around, ducking off into the bedroom and sliding the door mostly closed. “I want my best friend back. S’all I want. I don’t want us to hate each other anymore.”

“Chan,” Changbin starts, placing his hands on his hips and exhaling with force. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t say them. Not now. Not while Chan was drunk, and definitely not in front of Felix and Hyunjin. “Lee, Hwang, get him in better condition. This is the last thing we need.” He turns into his bedroom door and slams it behind him.

“Fucking coward!” Chan shouts, letting tears streak down his face. “You were always a fucking coward. I hate you, Changbin, and it hurts so much.”

Changbin immediately turns to the wall and slams the side of his fist into it. This was a mistake. All of this was a mistake. He never should have fucked Chan. 

“You gonna be alright?” Minho quietly presses from the bed, leaning up against the wall. “Sounds like there’s a lot to unpack for both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin grumbles, turning away from the wall, walking to his side of the bed as he rubs his hand back and forth. “I’m not gonna iron this shit out with him until he’s sober. Not when I’ve got so much pressure on my shoulders for this job to go well tomorrow.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, but doesn’t move. “Are you sure you want to sleep in the same bed as me with all of this going on?”

Minho sits up and presses a hand against Changbin’s back. “Dude,” he scoffs, “if you saw half of the shit my ex and I went through? You wouldn’t wanna be here with me. You think that you and Chan are bad? Take that and multiply it several times over and you have me and Jisung. I couldn’t commit, and he deserved the world.”

Changbin tries to smile at that, but he just can’t. Chan’s voice, calling him Binnie and lamenting over how he wanted his best friend back echoed in his head. It was so, so, loud, overwhelming, taking over his entire being. His head dropped and he started to shake as he tried desperately to bite back tears. “I fucked this all up.”

“You did,” the honesty in Minho’s voice stings, but he’s right, “but you can still make it up. Sounds like he’ll forgive you.”

“You’re right.” Changbin sighs, then rolls back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll talk to him after the deal tomorrow. Can I ask you something stupid?”

“What’s up?”

“Can you like,” Changbin sighs, a blush creeping up on his face as he pointedly looks far, far away from Minho, “I dunno, cuddle with me or some shit? I could really use a hug.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here, you stupid idiot.” Minho laughs, pulling Changbin by the arm up the bed. “Of course I can do that.” They readjust themselves up on the bed, Minho turns out the light on his bedside table, and Changbin faces away from him, safe in his arms, and just cries. He doesn’t stop crying, letting the tears run down his face until he eventually cries himself to sleep.

* * *

It’s about 10:35 when the group arrives at the Triad’s headquarters. “Everyone’s got their weapons, right?” Changbin says, eyeing over everyone but Chan.

“Yes, hyung,” Felix nods, “I’ve got my aid bag, as well.”

Hyunjin says nothing, just noncommittally nods his head once. Chan lets out a mumble. Minho nods his head, “Yes, hyung. Are you ready for this?”

Changbin sighs, checking the magazine of his pistol. “This is the biggest one yet. I’m really hoping we don’t fuck this up, that they don’t fuck this up. I’ve only met these guys once and it was when I was still new.”

“The hyung-nim said that we’d be meeting with Chen, Liang, and Song today,” Chan speaks up, his voice calm and restrained. “If I remember correctly, Liang is the one in charge now.”

Changbin looked up at the rearview mirror, making eye contact with Chan for a brief moment. “That’s helpful, Bang, thank you.”

“It’s for the family, Seo-hyung.” Chan’s eyes darted away, a layer of pain hidden behind them.

He would apologize after all of this, Changbin promised himself. He would make it up to Chan in whatever way possible. He had to.

* * *

There was something in the air as the small group of five stood in front of the expensive-looking wooden desk that Liang Wei, the regional leader of the Triads, sat behind. Changbin had a bad feeling about how this was going to turn out; none of his usual tricks were working, and everyone was tense. 

Liang calls over another man, Chen, and whispers something in his ear. The man offers a quick bow and steps off to the side. “Tell me,” Liang says in a low voice, resting his elbows on the table in front of him as he eyes Changbin and Chan, “your hyung-nim is going to try to lowball me on this offer, then send me a bunch of inexperienced children to try and seal this?” He scoffs, turning his head to spit on the floor. “Don’t insult me.”

Shit. This was going south fast.

The man on the other side of Liang, Song, took a hasty step forward, a wild grin on his face, and he points his pistol directly at Changbin. He laughs and says something that Changbin can’t quite pick up. Changbin reaches up to his hip to grab his pistol, but Minho shoves him out of the way as a bullet is fired off.

“Fuck, Lee!” Changbin shouts as Minho collapses to the ground behind him. Changbin starts to panic as he realizes that his blood brother has taken a bullet for him. He angrily reaches for his pistol, standing upright and aiming it for the Triad in front of him. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Changbin growls in Mandarin under his breath, about to advance when Chan takes a firm grip to his shoulder. “Bang, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Stand down,” Chan calmly speaks in Mandarin as he stares down the man, then turns to look at Liang. “We’ll leave, no questions asked, no transactions, nothing. Let us leave.”

Liang takes a moment, savouring the scene in front of him, then waves his hand and the men surrounding him lower their guns. Chan bows, elbowing Changbin in the side. “Get the new kid and get them out of here,” he whispers in Korean under his breath. “I need you to trust me. He’ll get what’s coming to him, but our main priority is Minho right now.”

Changbin looks up to Chan with a wild look in his eyes, but Chan is able to somehow calm him down enough to get him to back off. “Fine,” is all he spits out before he cranes his head over his shoulder, motioning for Felix to approach. As he bends down to help Felix carry Minho out of the room, he manages to muster a quiet, “You’d better be right about this, Bang,” under his breath.

* * *

Changbin never got a chance to apologize to Chan, instead, he ruminated on his behaviour, angry at the fact that Chan got drunk the night before such an important deal. Angry that he was still regretting sleeping with him after all of this time. Angry that Minho did his job and got shot in place of him. Angry that Chan didn’t step up and get shot instead. The next month flew beyond his grasp as he stayed behind to help Minho in Shanghai, long enough to heal and be stable enough to go back to fully recover in Seoul.

The Shanghai incident was something that ate away at both Changbin and at Chan. When Changbin and Minho came back to Seoul from Shanghai, there was still an obvious, apparent drift between Chan and Changbin. Chan would stop by the rehabilitation facility to update Changbin on regular family affairs, but the first couple of visits were incredibly awkward. The third visit was the one where everything had finally reached its apex.

“What the fuck do you want?” Changbin, not even bothering to look up from his book, spat at Chan as he walked into the room. Chan offered a stiff, formal bow in response, the entire action feeling awkward and uncomfortable as he did so. 

“Cha— ah, Seo- _hyung_ ,” he stumbled over his words, cringing at the way they felt as they left his mouth. “Hyung-nim has requested that you show up to the next meeting on—“

“No,” Changbin barks, turning a page in his book, then rolling his eyes up to Chan for only a moment, “My priority is _Minho_. The hyung-nim can speak to me directly if he has a problem with it.”

The words stung, because Chan knew that Changbin was doing this on purpose, specifically to be an asshole to him. Chan purses his lips together, looking over at Minho on his bed. “Is he sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Changbin scoffs, “benzodiazepines will knock anyone out. Sleep helps the body heal after literally taking a bullet for someone.”

“Good,” Chan grumbles under his breath, advancing towards Changbin. He rips the book out of his hand and throws it across the room. Changbin, as calmly as possible, rolls his eyes up, glaring at Chan as he sucks air in between his teeth and stands up.

“What the fuck is your problem, _subordinate_ Bang?” Changbin scoffs, folding his arms.

“Don’t give me that shit, Seo.” Chan takes a step closer to the younger man, deliberately getting into his personal bubble.

“It’s _hyung_ to you.” Changbin snarled. “Don’t forget your place.”

“Fuck off,” Chan says, taking another step towards Changbin. “Only superiors I respect deserve that title. I _am_ still older than you.”

Changbin sneers, stepping up to Chan’s face, only mere centimetres away. “That’s an order.”

Chan takes a deep breath in, knowing that Changbin walked right into the door he had opened. “Make me, Changbin.”

Changbin closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. After a moment, his eyes flutter open and he grabs Chan by the hair, pulling him into Minho’s washroom. Changbin knees his subordinate in the stomach as soon as he’s past the doorframe, then slams and locks the door behind him.

“This what you wanted?” Changbin growls, stepping his heel into Chan’s chest. “Wanted your hyung to beat the submission back into you?”

Chan coughs, looking up to Changbin. “Please,” he sarcastically grumbles, “I knew this was the only way I could get you to fucking pay attention to me. ‘Minho this’, ‘Minho that’. Ever since we got back from Japan, he’s all you’ve talked about. Then you two fuck a couple times, he goes and gets shot for you, and you think that means love?”

Changbin grits his teeth and puts more weight down on his heel. “You wouldn’t know love if it came up and slapped you in the face, you fucking asshole. The day we got home from Japan?” Chan’s eyes widened in shock as Changbin leaned in closer. “We fucked for _hours_. And you know what? He’s a better lay than you.”

Chan shifts uncomfortably under Changbin’s heel, reaching up to grab his ankle. “What,” he coughs and rubs his shoulder blades into the ground, “and you think that following me around for years and never making a move until you literally fuck me and then tell me you love me quantifies as love? That I’m gonna suddenly be bothered by a hookup you had? As _if_. Go nuts. Be happy and fucking run off with him.” Chan’s eyebrows twitch, trying to let his true feelings slip, but he catches it before anything sneaks away. “We fucked — once. That’s it. I don’t care, Changbin. I don’t love you like that.”

The weight on Chan’s chest is lightened for a brief moment as Changbin looks down at him, a wave of disbelief and of betrayal wash over his face. It’s hard to tell from the floor, but it almost looks like tears start to form in the corners of Changbin’s eyes.

Changbin shouts in frustration, turning to punch the wall of the washroom instead of crushing Chan’s ribs. “I trusted you. I fucking loved you. God, I _still_ love you, like an absolute moron. I don’t want to love you because it _hurts_ , Chan.” He lets himself collapse into the wall, removing his bloodied knuckles from the drywall crater he created. Racking sobs take over him, shaking his torso up against the wall, and he just slowly lets himself sink to the floor. “You meant so much to me and I thought you fucking cared.”

Chan reaches over, wincing in pain as he places his hand on Changbin’s leg. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” the younger man says, curling further into the wall. “It just hurts more when you try to comfort me. Insult to injury.”

“You idiot,” Chan grumbles, sliding himself across the floor, closer and closer to Changbin until he can wrap his arms around his waist. Changbin tries to protest his embrace, smacking and pushing Chan’s arms away.

“Get the fuck off of me,” the younger man whines, but eventually stops protesting. “I should have apologized for my behaviour sooner. I should have never acted out the way I did, Chan. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, Changbin,” Chan slowly strokes a hand through Changbin’s hair. “I didn’t know what to say to you, and so when I saw you and Minho possibly having a chance together, I stepped back. I may not have acted in the most appropriate manner, but at the end of the day, I still care about you. Nothing’s gonna change that overnight, dude.”

Changbin lifts his head, staring at Chan. “I’ve regretted sleeping with you every day since then. I know I shouldn’t, but I fucked up our friendship irreparably and it fucking kills me.”

“Shut up, Changbin.” Chan sighs, grabbing the younger man’s jaw, forcing them to maintain eye contact. “I don’t regret it. Sure, we both acted like idiots, but I would never regret that. I…” his voice trails off and he bites his lip for a moment, “I think I do love you, Changbin. I don’t know if it’s the way you want me to, but I love you and I care about you. I just don’t want you to throw away your chance with Minho just to take a risk on me.”

Changbin pulls himself into Chan’s arms, reaching up to his face with shaky hands. “We’re not dating. It’s nothing exclusive.” He doesn’t say much more before he crashes his lips against the older man’s. “Minho is fast asleep,” he pants between kisses, “he won’t know. Not this once.”

“Changbin,” Chan tries to speak, his brain telling him to stop, but his body automatically moves to get his fingers tangled in Changbin’s hair. “Bin,” he whispers, unable to think of anything but the man in his arms. “Just tonight. Just once.”

“I love you, Chan. Just for tonight.” Changbin slowly guides Chan down to the floor, kissing him and running his hands all over the older man’s body.

“I…” Chan stutters for a moment, but shakes his head. “I love you too, Binnie.”

A shy smile pops up on Changbin's face. "I missed hearing you call me that, Chan." Changbin breaks away from the kiss, reaching up to the sink, grabbing a bottle of lotion, knocking it on to the floor. “Shit,” he mutters, not caring about how much of a disaster this was turning out to be. He grasps for the tiny bottle, rolling it up next to them, and he slips his pants off, bending down to haphazardly kiss Chan’s face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up.” Chan takes Changbin’s bottom lip in between his teeth, giving it a gentle nibble. “Don’t ruin this with feelings. Just shut up and ride me and I’ll call you hyung just the way you like it.”

“Fine, fine.” Changbin grabs the lotion, squeezing a copious amount onto his fingertips. He bit his lip back and squinted in discomfort, knowing that stretching himself out without any real lube was going to be uncomfortable and awkward, but it didn’t matter. He was going to be with Chan one more time, and that was worth the mild discomfort he would have to go through.

Chan was transfixed as he watched Changbin slide his small index finger in and out of himself. There was an uncomfortable pressure in his abdomen that burned as he watched Changbin finger-fuck himself above him. “This is so hot,” Chan breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling as his pupils start to dilate.

Changbin’s face flushes and he looks away in embarrassment. “I usually don’t do this in front of anyone, but I guess I’m just desperate to get this done so I can have you inside of me again.”

“Well, isn’t that oddly romantic?”

“Ugh, bite me.” Changbin slips his middle finger inside and rolls his eyes back a bit, letting his eyelids flutter shut. “I want this to be you,” he whines, and Chan shifts. He sits up and grabs Changbin’s hip. 

“Let me help, then.” His voice is low, quiet, and right up against Changbin’s ear, followed by his teeth softly grazing the skin under his earlobe. “I want you to feel good this time. Think of it as a thank you for the last time.” Chan reaches out to grab the bottle of lotion next to both of them, carelessly slathering his fingers in the slippery substance, dropping the bottle and slipping his fingers between Changbin’s legs.

Chan’s fingers graze up against Changbin’s, causing them both to momentarily forget how to breathe. Changbin looks down at Chan, slowly sliding his fingers out. “Please don’t be too rough. Your fingers are a lot thicker than mine.”

“I’ll be good to you, baby.” Chan takes his free hand and gently guides Changbin to the floor. “I promise.”

Stretching out with lotion as lubricant was a terrible idea. It dried up too quickly, it was uncomfortable, and the clinical smell that replaced the fragrance that would usually be there just added another layer of discomfort. Fucking with it was worse, but with the way that Changbin skillfully rolled his hips up against Chan’s waist was enough for them to forget their discomfort.

The way that they looked, entangled in each other, Chan propping Changbin up with their fingers interlaced in their hands, his elbows resting on the ground as Changbin pushed down against his hands, it was all strangely romantic. It was like it was their first time as a couple, desperately trying to make sure that everything was comfortable and cute and perfect.

Except for the noises they made and the words they spoke.

“You like it when your hyung rides your cock, baby?” Changbin moaned, loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity to hear.

“I love it, Seo-hyung.” Chan panted, losing himself as he watched the brunette ride him up and down, “I love watching you. Fuck, I love this. I love you. We should have done this more often.”

Changbin waves a hand in front of his face. “We agreed, no feelings.”

“I can’t help it,” Chan whines, taking his free hand and running it through his hair. “You just make me feel like I’m on another plane of existence.”

“Stop taking drugs, then.” Changbin dryly quips, reaching down to stroke himself. “Lift your shirt up.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m gonna fucking come and I don’t wanna ruin your shirt, Chan.” Changbin lets out a long, drawn out moan at the end of his sentence, visibly trying to hold back his orgasm. “I can ruin your shirt, if you prefer. You’ll get a lot of looks.”

“Oh,” Chan panics, lifting his shirt up, getting a bit too excited and pulling it completely over his head. “Alright, come all over me.”

Changbin wanted to roll his eyes at Chan’s behaviour, but he lost himself as he came. It took one simple, accidental shift of Chan’s hips and for his own fingers to barely touch himself before his back arched and his body twitched, an embarrassing amount of cum spilling on to Chan’s abdomen, chest, and his face.

“Fucking hell.” Changbin moaned, timidly opening one of his eyes and barely catching Chan’s slack-jawed expression as they stared at each other.

“Changbin, I’m gonna—“ Chan couldn’t keep his eyes open, his voice cracking as he cried out, letting out little moans as his body started to convulse.

“It’s alright,” Changbin whispered, digging his nails into Chan’s thigh, “you can come inside of me, it’s okay. Mark up your hyungie.” 

It only takes a second before Chan comes, his head rolling back and his face contorting into some strange expression that made it look like he was being exorcised. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines, his voice increasing ever so slightly in pitch with every syllable. 

The two of them sit there for a few moments, sweating and sticky from their mess, and they just stare at each other. They had felt so great for so long, and now that they were down from their highs, an uneasy feeling washed over both of them. What were they doing? Where was their relationship even going? Why had they just fucked in Minho’s hospital washroom?

“I think I’m going to take a shower and clean up,” Changbin eventually speaks up, avoiding eye contact with Chan.

“Yeah,” Chan nods, sitting up and grabbing a cloth towel from the wall behind him. Without any real purpose, he starts wiping off the sticky cum from his chest, abdomen, and from his face. As soon as enough is off of him, he pulls his shirt back over his head, and Changbin awkwardly gets off of him, stepping into the shower and turning it on.

“I’ll see you in a couple days?” His voice drifts up from over the shower curtain, wavering and uncertain.

Chan slips his pants fully on and nods once. “Yeah,” he mutters as he reaches for the washroom door handle, “that sounds fine. See you, Changbin.” 

* * *

Minho was sure Changbin was going to be late today. 

After he the incident with Chan last night, he awkwardly shuffled out the door a few minutes after Chan left. Minho had pretended that he was still completely out of it, when in reality, they had woken him up with how loud they were; he was only partially out of it, just too tired to react last night. He quickly got painfully hard thinking about listening to their session, the way that their bodies slapped together, the mewls that Chan would make, the way that Changbin growled and whined as he came. All of it was burned into Minho’s head.

“Seo-hyung,” he remembered how Chan had breathily called out to their superior, blissfully unaware that Minho was indeed partially awake, listening to the lewd noises the two of them made in the washroom. 

Fuck it, the memory was too much to ignore.

Minho sleepily shifted his shoulders, sliding his hand down under the blanket to teasingly palm himself through his paper-thin hospital garb. He let out a soft, quiet whimper at the light touch of his hand. It had to have been a month since he last tried this; the last time just felt weird and uncomfortable, probably due to the copious amounts of pain relievers the doctors had him on. The last time he got off was the day before the incident in Shanghai, where he and Changbin lazily fucked around in the shower. It had to have been a month and a half at this point, and it _hurt_. Minho never took a break of more than two or three days, and his balls were fucking killing him, agonizing and aching for release.

His eyes flutter shut as he lets himself get completely lost in the memory from last night. “You like it when your hyung rides your cock, baby?” Changbin’s voice was so assertive and authoritative, but Minho was sure he could find a better use for Changbin’s mouth. Mentally, he made a pact with himself that he would fuck the arrogant superiority complex out of Changbin once he was totally recovered. He had gotten pretty close to it when they fucked the last time, but it didn’t last long enough.

He let his mind drift, now stroking himself under his pants, imagining that he had finally gotten Changbin to fully submit to him, on his knees, tears and saliva running down his face as Minho relentlessly facefucked him. Minho would order Changbin to envelope his cute little mouth around his cock, making him momentarily choke on it as he hit the back of his throat. He knew that Changbin was cute in bed, so he likely had a cute fucked-out face, too. The wannabe tough guys always did.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans, forcing his free arm over his face as he bit his wrist so hard that he knew it was going to bruise. There was something about inflicting pain, even on himself, that just made the way to his orgasm that much more satisfying. He felt like he was close already, since it had been so long.

“Changbin,” he sighs, “fucking take it.” His breath is low and throaty as he starts to twitch and shift uncomfortably. “I want you to take all of my cum like the dirty slut I know you are. Fucking—“ he shudders, arching his back as he spills his seed inside of his hand and his boxers. Minho rapidly pants, then slows his breathing down as he comes back down to reality. 

It really didn’t take long after all this time, maybe only a couple of minutes. Minho lets out a deep sigh as he lets his eyes lazily open. He blinks hard a couple of times, rolling his eyes around to reorient his vision. Once he’s totally back, he sticks his elbow back behind him, propping himself upright so he could clean himself off. Something in front of him causes him to freeze in place. He had placed his bets on red, but it turns out that the ball landed on black. 

Oh, for fuck’s —

Changbin was standing there, pushing up his glasses and sipping on an iced americano, his eyes open wide and his face a deep shade of crimson. “Hi,” he awkwardly manages to spit out. “You want me to do what, now?”

Fucking karma was not on Minho's side. Why was he standing there? How long had he been there for? There were two ways Minho could handle this. One: try and play it off all cute and innocent and nervous, just two bros joking over “just guy things”, or two:

“You heard me,” he rolls his eyes up to meet Changbin’s. There was still some residual excess testosterone and serotonin raging through his veins, and Minho wanted to test his luck. He pretends to be confident, mentally admitting that he was being a bit of a creep, but fuck it: he was going all out, betting everything on red again. He pulls his sticky hand out from his pants, from under the blankets, presenting his sweaty, cum-soaked hand in the air, wiggling his fingers. “And I heard _you_ last night, my little freak. Loudly fucking your subordinate in the washroom of the hospital room of the _other_ subordinate that took a bullet for you? Least you could do, naughty boy.”

The two of them stare at each other for longer than they’d like to. There’s a thick layer of tension in the air, until Changbin sighs, placing his cup down on the table on the opposite side of the room. Minho is certain he’s fucked up, until Changbin turns around, then climbs up on to the bed, straddling his subordinate. The ball finally landed on red this time.

“Just like last time, if you tell anyone about this,” Changbin grumbles, grabbing Minho’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth, “I’ll destroy you. Not in the way that I’m sure you want me to, of course.” He rolls his tongue up and down, swirling his way around and between Minho’s fingers. Changbin knew he shouldn’t do this, especially with his subordinate, but he shouldn’t have fucked his best friend, also a subordinate, last night in his injured subordinate’s recovery room. All bets were off.

“Fuck,” Minho groans, tilting his head back, “you’re lucky I just got off, otherwise I would completely wreck you right now.”

“You can’t,” Changbin says with a soft chuckle. “You still can’t stand on your leg, right?”

Minho grits his teeth and groans a little louder, this time due to frustration. He was right, Changbin was going to be a challenge to control while he didn't have full control of his injured leg, but that only turned him on more. “That’s not the fucking point, you asshole. Besides, I don’t need to stand to make a mess out of you.”

Changbin sneers, taking Minho’s index finger in his mouth, looking up to Minho as he slowly sucks his way up it, creating a tight vacuum around the digit, which causes Minho to look down at him. Changbin deliberately maintains eye contact with him as he makes his way all the way to the fingertip, pressing the tip of his tongue against it as he releases the finger with an audible pop.

“Fuck you,” Minho ruts his pelvis up into Changbin and throws his head back, feeling himself starting to get uncomfortably hard again. God, why was he so good at this? “I’m gonna get all of the functionality back in my leg, all of my strength, and I’m gonna throw you up against a wall and fuck you so hard that you’re gonna be begging for my cock inside of you all fucking day. You’re not gonna be able to walk for a week when I’m done with you.”

Changbin chuckles and smirks. “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

The way that he says that causes Minho to snap. “Sit up on your knees,” he says with assertiveness, “and don’t give me shit, because I can’t move and take you how I want to right now, use you like the slut you are.”

Changbin says nothing, just bringing himself up to his knees as requested. It had been a while since the two of them had interacted like this; he had only fully submitted to Minho once, and it was the night that he landed from Japan. He loved relinquishing total control to someone else when he wanted to. “What do you want me to address you as?”

“What?”

“You know,” he sighs, rolling a hand around in the air, “some guys like daddy, some like hyung, some like sir, you get it.”

“Oh,” Minho whispers, and then it hits him. “Oh. I didn’t even think about that. I dunno, hearing Chan call you hyung was kind of interesting to hear last night.”

Changbin rolls his eyes, embarrassed that Minho actually heard that. “I mean, if that’s your thing, but, it’s not my first choice for you.”

“Oh?” Minho cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. “What’s your choice?”

“Sir?” Changbin says with an upward inflection after a brief moment. He liked the idea of calling Minho hyung, but all of the memories and discomfort he felt over Chan still felt too new and too raw; it would have been awkward for him.

Minho lets a conceited smile creep up on his face. “Yeah, I like the way it feels when you say that. Just gotta pick a name for you, now.”

Changbin flushes, looking down at his hands. It had been so long since he was in any sort of submissive role, sexual or otherwise, that he didn’t really have any ideas.

A thought strikes the older man. He smirks as he sits up, tilting the brunette’s chin up with his index finger. “You looks so cute and small when you’re shy like this, pretty boy.”

The title causes a pulse of electricity to course throughout Changbin’s body. He twitches involuntarily, letting a gasp leave his lips. “That, _ah_ , works.”

Minho’s eyes flit down, staring at the tent starting to form in Changbin’s jeans. He rolls his eyes back up, and gently pulls Changbin’s face down closer to him, bringing his lips to the younger man’s ear. “Did my pretty little slut not have enough last night?”

“No,” Changbin mumbles in embarrassment. He seriously couldn’t believe he was doing this. A hand snakes up to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it in between fingers. Minho lightly bites Changbin’s earlobe, causing the man above him to sharply suck in air through his teeth.

“Try that again,” Minho breathily commands. There was a rush to this tryst that was completely different than their other encounters, and he was living for it.

“No, _sir_ ,” Changbin gasps, grinding down into Minho’s lap. 

Minho lets out a controlled breath as the younger man grinds against him. He takes a second to compose himself, then pulls away from Changbin. He says nothing as he reaches to his phone on the nightstand, checking the time, before he reaches over to the small bottle of lotion just behind it. “We have twenty minutes before the nurses come in to check up on me. Get up for a second while I readjust, alright?”

Changbin nods his head once, wincing at the sight of lotion again, shifting his weight to the side of the bed as Minho pulls himself back, aligning his back against the wall. He shifts a bit, then motions for Changbin to get back in his lap, to which he obliges.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks. He knows that Changbin trusted him with his life — quite literally, actually — but this was an entirely new level of trust. They were both openly vulnerable right now, and anyone could walk in and find them in this compromising position.

Changbin nods his head once as he straddles his subordinate again. “Yes, sir,” he says assertively, bringing his hands behind his back as he returns to the position he was in before. “I will admit, though, that it’s weird calling you ‘sir’.”

“Don’t think about it,’ Minho waves his hand and moves to undo the button on Changbin’s jeans, then quickly sliding the zipper down in succession. “I’m gonna be a little rough on you since we don’t have a lot of time. You okay with that?” Minho looks up, meeting Changbin’s slightly nervous eyes as he slips the younger man’s pants and briefs down to his knees.

Without thinking about it, Changbin nods a couple of times before correcting his mistake to not verbally confirm it. “Yes, sir,” he says, trying to sound as composed as possible, to hide all of the arousal and desire in his voice. The sex with Chan last night was good, but the way that Minho fucked him just struck a different nerve deep within him, something that would keep him coming — literally — over and over again, like he was an addictive drug.

“I’m not gonna be able to take your tight little hole with my cock this time,” Minho says with a hint of annoyance to his voice as he slips down to squirt a bit of lotion into his hand. “But if you do a good job, maybe I’ll be nice and let you ride me later. How’s that sound, pretty boy?”

A warm blush creeps up on Changbin’s face, his cock twitching in the air at the thought. “I…” he coughs, trying to sound a little less needy, “I’d like that very much, sir.”

Minho smirks, rolling the slippery substance between his fingers as he slides his fingers in between Changbin’s legs, the cool, slick liquid on his fingers causing the younger man to shudder as it comes into contact with his skin. “Kiss me,” he says as he looks up to Changbin. It suddenly hits Minho how awkward that sounds, considering they weren’t that intimate with each other, not since the night before the incident in Shanghai. He sputters a bit, then corrects himself. “I don’t want you to make too much noise, at least not right now. Be a good boy, yeah?”

Changbin groans as he bends slightly at the waist, taking his hands up to the underside of Minho’s jaw, lightly pulling their faces close together. “Yes, sir,” he whispers before gingerly pressing his lips to the black-haired man’s. 

When their lips touch, it’s like sparks tingle up from their lips all the way around their heads, giving them both a bit of a rush. Their lips part, tongues aggressively clashing against each other, scrambling for purchase to find the way the inside of the other man’s mouth, needing to know how they tasted. Minho takes that as his cue, slipping a finger inside of Changbin.

“Fuck,” the brunette whimpers, about to pull his head away from Minho, but the older man quickly snaps up and bites his bottom lip, a bit firmer than he intended, as there’s a slight twinge of copper to the taste of Changbin’s saliva. 

“Sorry,” Minho moans out as he slowly spins his index finger up inside of Changbin. “You know I get a little aggressive sometimes. Tell me to stop if it’s too much, yeah?”

Changbin nods, “Yes, sir.”

They go back to kissing each other a bit too passionately, given the nature of the circumstances, but neither of them seem to care too much. Once Changbin’s relaxed enough around Minho’s index finger, Minho breaks away from the kiss again, staring off into the distance behind Changbin for a moment. They had thirteen minutes. 

“Are you ready for another finger?” Minho breathes out, tentatively pressing his middle finger up near his entrance. “We don’t have much time and I want to make a mess out of you.”

A pleading whimper leaves Changbin’s lips before he attempts to regains his composure. “Yeah, yeah, yes, sir, please.” The smaller man shudders, growing more and more uncomfortably hard by the second. What if someone had walked in and saw him like this? Worse, what if someone from the family came in and saw?

What if _Chan_ saw them? Changbin whimpered at the thought, secretly enjoying the idea of that more than he probably should have.

“Alright,” Minho whispers and slips his middle finger inside as well, bringing his free hand up to Changbin’s hair, firmly bringing his face in closer, starting their next kiss immediately with a wandering tongue. “Touch yourself,” he manages to breathe out in between swipes of his tongue. “Not a lot of time. Gonna make you come so hard.”

If he didn’t want to come so badly, Changbin knew he would be embarrassed, his face a deep shade of red. He was desperate, however, so he took one hand and pressed it up against the wall, bringing his other hand below his mouth, letting some of his saliva, mixed with the residual saliva from Minho, drip down into his hand. There wasn’t enough time to fumble with a stupid bottle of lotion, so this would have to do. Once there was enough saliva in his hand, he eagerly brought his sticky hand to his dripping cock and started stroking it with purpose, letting little moans escape his throat as he enjoyed the stimulation from both himself and from Minho.

Minho pulled back, resting up against the wall. “That’s right. Put on a show for me, baby.” Changbin was a bit taken aback by this request, but, truthfully, he was enjoying it too much to want to stop or even think about anything else. “You’ve got less than ten minutes.” Minho started circling his fingers inside of Changbin, working his way around to urgently find his prostate. There was nothing more he wanted than to watch his superior completely unravel and lose himself due to his subordinate’s fingers.

It took a couple of good circles before Changbin let out a strained squeal, arching his back and curling his fingernails up into the wall. “Fuck, Minho,” he whines, shifting around uncomfortably. “I mean, ah,” he shakes his head, a pathetically needy look on his face as he looks down at the older man with pleading eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir, please don’t-“

“We don’t have time,” Minho whispers, pulling Changbin in a little closer with his unoccupied hand. “You can make it up to me later, I just want you to hurry up and come, pretty boyt.” He takes his fingers and rocks them in a come-hither motion rapidly against Changbin’s prostate, guessing that it would bring him that much closer to orgasm. 

Changbin whimpers at Minho’s words and his touch, as he continues to stroke his cock, slowly increasing the speed at which he tugs at himself. The sex with Chan the night prior was fine, but something was simply missing. Elements of makeup sex with someone else always offered a different experience for him, but there was nothing better than rushed, needy, passionate, desperate sex, especially when it was with someone he _knew_ he should not be intimate with.

“Oh, god,” the burning sensation in Changbin’s lower abdomen started to bloom, his reaction causing Minho to smirk up at him.

“Five minutes,” the black-haired man chuckles, pushing Changbin back a bit, just enough to get his mouth in front of the head of the brunette’s cock. “I don’t do this for anyone, but I’m gonna let a dirty little whore like you come inside my mouth. Hurry up.”

The sensations Changbin was feeling were intense, but he didn’t have much time to take them in before Minho stuck his tongue out right under the head of his cock, the view of his subordinate looking up at him with eyes half-lidded desire lit something up inside of him. Changbin so desperately wanted to drink in the view, to savour it, but he had no say in the matter, as he came in, and partially around, Minho’s mouth, streaks of warm, white cum spilling from the corners of the older man’s mouth.

Once Changbin was completely spent, Minho sat up, deliberately not swallowing the cum deposited in his mouth, as he took his free hand and aggressively grabbed Changbin’s head by the hair, pulling their faces together. Changbin gasped, leaving his mouth open in shock at the sudden movement. He doesn’t have time to react, however, before Minho spits the cum back into Changbin’s mouth, the mixture of semen and saliva in combination with the strangely warm temperature making the younger man slightly queasy.

“Be good and swallow your own cum, pretty boy,” Minho demands, looking down at him with a wicked grin. Changbin, while surprised, does as he’s asked, opening his mouth to prove he had fulfilled the request. “Good boy,” Minho whispers, planting a soft kiss on Changbin’s lips as he slowly pulls his fingers out of the younger man, causing him to convulse. “We only have two minutes. Help me out of here so I can wash my hands, alright?”

By some miracle, the two of them were able to readjust and get Minho into the washroom to clean up a bit before the nurse came in, about two minutes later than scheduled. It was going to be a long recovery period, but Minho had a feeling that, with Changbin around, it would get a lot more interesting. 

* * *

"So,” Minho sat back down on the edge of his bed, watching the nurse leave the room, then he looked up at Changbin. “We should talk about what we’re doing, don’t you think?”

“You know I fucked Chan again last night,” Changbin flops down onto the small hospital bed next to Minho. “I told you, lots of baggage here.”

“And I told you it adds to your charm.”

“You’re not mad?” Changbin lifts his arms, tucking them behind his head, and he looks up to Minho.

“Nah,” Minho leans back, shifting his weight onto his side to look down at Changbin. “I don’t really blame you, honestly. Your relationship with your best friend is gonna be weird for a long time. You’ve known him for, what, half your life at this point? You told me that he was your only person, too?”

Changbin doesn’t say anything, just timidly nods a bit.

“I get it.” Minho sighs, bringing one of his hands down to aimlessly play with Changbin’s hair. “I don’t have anyone at all anymore. I had my ex for a while. He’s a really good kid, but he’s too innocent for this kinda lifestyle. He knew I was in the family, he was okay with it, but even for just the collection jobs, I’d see him panic and freak out while I was gone, it would be all over his face when I got home. It was too much.”

“It’s easier being alone,” Changbin says, staring up into the ceiling. 

“Exactly.” Minho stares down at Changbin, getting lost in the way his eyes stared upward. “But you and I are going through the same shit right now and I’m fine taking a bet on you, Bin.”

Changbin bit the inside of his cheek at Minho’s nickname. It was the same three letters, the same word, but it sounded and felt so different when he said it compared to the way that Chan said it. He was going to be haunted by Chan in everything he did, and it bothered him.

“You alright?”

“Sorry, yeah.” Changbin shakes his head a couple of times, then makes eye contact with Minho, who is wildly staring down at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You were gone for a minute. Looked like you were thinking about something.”

Changbin scoffs and waves his hand around dismissively. “It’s not that big of a deal. Anyway,” he clears his throat, “remember the day before Shanghai? When we were in your car?”

“What about it?”

“You told me ‘one day at a time’, and I think that makes me a little bit more comfortable going into this. Maybe we should take each other for a test drive, see how compatible we really are, if it’s worth it or not.”

Minho half-smiled. “What about your best friend?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least somewhat concerned about how Chan was going to play into all of this.

Changbin chewed on his lip, his eyes rolling back up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about him. We haven't actually talked about it, but we've basically decided we’d be better friends than partners.”

“You look like you’re still hurt over it, though. Like you wanted more.” Minho was really good at not mincing words, and it always managed to feel like an icy skewer going through Changbin’s chest.

The brunette sighs heavily, biting back pain as he looked at Minho yet again. “I mean,” he starts, inanely scratching his fingernail against his palm, “imagine that you tell your best friend you’re in love with him, that you have been since you were both in high school. Imagine telling him you love him as you’re fucking. Imagine you’re a coward that runs away from talking about it and runs away from your feelings. Of course it hurts, Minho.”

“Good,” Minho rolls his head up, staring out the window behind Changbin.

The younger man scoffs and sits up, not quite believing what he was hearing. “Excuse me, what?”

Minho’s eyes roll over to make contact with Changbin’s for a moment. “It means you’re alive, the pain. It means you’ll be able to fight another day. Fight to get back at him. Fight to get back with him, if you need it. Fight to help me recover. Just fight another day. One day at a time, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> consider leaving a comment. they make my day. ♡


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